A Clean Pair of Eyes
by Historianic
Summary: "Daniel, you take what you want and don't care who you hurt in the process. But mark my words, there will be a price." He smirked. "Is that some sort of threat?" Grace Chin gave an enigmatic smile. "Just a bit of friendly advice. Next time you get a chance to show you're not as callous and selfish as you seem, you might want to take it." A fairytale, retold, DANIEL/BETTY style.
1. Prologue

**Author's note:** I must be mad starting a new fic when I haven't yet finished "Ishq". But the idea for this story has been rolling around in my head for such a long time, I simply couldn't resist.

We are in AU territory again. It's also another adaptation, this time of one of my favourite childhood stories. It's a Daniel/Betty reworking of both the original French fairytale and the Disney film. I'm not going to say which one though because it should become obvious very soon.

If so far, this sounds like your kind of story, give it a try!

**Disclaimer:** I own absolutely nothing. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

**PROLOGUE**

The Meade mansion was built near the top of one of the few hills on Hudson Island, a vantage point that gave it an expansive view of the Manhattan skyline to its west, and the Queensboro Bridge to its east.

It was a stately house, with three storeys, an imposing grey brick face and in a typically ostentatious Meade fashion, was designed to look like a Victorian Gothic manor, complete with turrets and a mansard roof.

Hudson Island was connected to the rest of the city by a single bridge and the nearest neighbours to the mansion lived five kilometres away in either direction, easily making it the most isolated address on the island.

But that was okay.

Daniel Meade did not like visitors.

Christina McKinney let out a sigh as she listened to her master slam through the house. He was never in a particularly good temper at the best of times, but every year, whenever this particular day rolled around he became impossible.

"So has he trashed anything yet?"

The Scotswoman looked up from where she'd been clearing away the untouched supper, two hours of careful cooking all gone to waste.

Vincent, the driver, was resting his lanky form against the doorway. He had discarded his suit jacket, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up, and his collar a little skew.

"My money's on the TV this year," He said, coming further into the dining room. "He set fire to all the photo albums last year and threw out all the MODE crap the year before that. What has he got left to take out, short of burning the whole place down?"

Christina actually flinched at the thought.

"Bloody numpty!" She chided the other man. "Don't even joke like that."

The housekeeper had not forgotten the previous year, when she'd found Daniel standing in the middle of the living room, a lit match in his hands. Thank goodness he'd only been set on destroying the albums.

Vincent shrugged and helped himself to a bowl of pudding Christina had not yet cleared away.

"Oy!" She slapped at his hands. "Put that down, it's not for you."

"It's not like Master Daniel's goin' to eat it," He said, rolling the "Master Daniel" off his tongue mockingly.

"I don't understand why you bother, doll. It's the same every year. He spends the whole day in a snit-" a door slammed somewhere in the house, "-behaves like a real snot to us and then locks himself up in the attic with a bottle of scotch, where predictably, a few hours later," Vincent stuck a spoonful of pudding in his mouth, "you have to send me up to scrape him off the floor. So why waste your time makin' a meal for a guy who doesn't want it and, let's be honest here, don't deserve it either?"

"Because it's his _birthday_, yer numpty," Christina finally snatched the bowl away from him, ignoring his grunt of disappointment.

"He should have someone show him a little kindness, a little care, on his birthday at least."

"Seeing as how he's so sweet to everyone else," Vincent retorted with a mocking grin, the spoon held in place between his teeth.

Christina gave him a long-suffering look.

"Come on Vincent. It can't be easy to live like this. You know what happened; why today is always especially difficult for him."

Vincent took the spoon from his mouth and was about to respond when they heard Daniel's loud, angry footsteps a lot closer this time. He was downstairs then.

As the footsteps grew louder, they thought he might be making his way to the dining room.

Christina and Vincent listened keenly as they heard him open a door, but it didn't slam shut this time.

She raised her eyebrows and gave the other man a look as if to say, 'See? He's in a better humour this time.' But Vincent simply shook his head and silently mouthed 'wait for it' in reply.

Daniel must have gone into the den because they heard the TV flick on a moment later.

_"...all that money and she's still got a moustache!"_ The voice of Fashion TV's Suzuki St. Pierre drifted over to them.

"_Now however, it's time to turn to what remains the single, biggest, mystery in the fashion industry. We are of course talking about the disappearance of MODE editor-in-chief, Daniel Meade, well known for his ability to both dress and undress a woman._

_This prince of the publishing world ruthlessly conquered the New York fashion industry and left many a woman crying in her Jimmy Choos in the process, only to disappear at the pinnacle of his career when, if the rumours are true, Daddy Meade was just about to hand over the keys to the kingdom and put Prince Danny on the Meade publishing throne!_

_Why did he leave? Where did he go? And most importantly, who, in the long list of people screwed over by Daniel Meade – that's figurative and literal mind you – finally decided to exact their revenge and run the blue-eyed boy out?! Your guess is as good as ours!_

_Meanwhile, in other news, his rival, Matt Hartley, recently beat Danny Boy's record and was named HUDSON's Man of the Year for a third time due to his impressive..."_

"Three, two, one..." Vincent murmured before,

"ARGGHHHHH!" There was a resounding crash and it sounded like Daniel was pulling things off the walls.

"Oh bloody hell!" Christina groaned knowing Vincent had probably been right about the TV.

The banging about eventually stopped to be replaced with an almost eerie silence.

Both Vincent and Christina listened closely, trying to work out what Daniel was doing.

They got their answer as the doors to the dining room burst open and Daniel stormed through. Barely sparing them a second glance, he made a beeline for the liquor cabinet and didn't take long to find what he was looking for.

'See?' Vincent mouthed behind Daniel's turned back.

Daniel whirled around, bottle of Scotch in hand, and acknowledged their presence for the first time.

"One word," He growled menacingly, his eyes flashing, "just one."

They both remained obediently silent and didn't look at him directly, knowing he became even more self-conscious about his looks when he was in a mood like this.

He stomped past them again and was half way out of the room when he added,

"And clean up the den. Slight accident."

Then he was gone, stomping up the stairs towards the attic, just as Vincent had predicted.

Christina made her way towards the den, Vincent trailing after her, to inspect the damage.

"Slight accident my ass," He muttered as they took in the scene before them.

The Scottish housekeeper was forced to agree.

"That numpty," She murmured.

The room was a shambles.

Daniel had evidently hurled the remote at the television, hard enough to leave a deep crack in the glass of the screen. And when that hadn't sufficed, he'd pulled the plasma TV off its mounted place on the wall. The coffee table was kicked over, there was a broken vase on the floor, a bookshelf had been turned over and all the books were now scattered; several sofa cushions were flung wildly about the room and three of the paintings on the walls had been thrown down, their frames cracked.

Daniel had practically torn the room apart in his anger.

Vincent helped Christina clear away the bigger pieces of the detritus and set the furniture right again.

"This can't continue Vincent," She said gravely. "Every day he sinks further into despair. Soon he won't be able to climb out of this hole."

"I get how you're feelin' doll," Vincent said with uncharacteristic sobriety, "but you know how this works. It's on him to fix things."

"What are we going to do?" Christina blew out a frustrated breath.

Vincent sighed. "Pray that he finds a change of heart; that he decides to try again. And hope for a girl who can learn to love him and break the damn spell."

* * *

**AN:** I'm not American and not at all familiar with the American geographical landscape. I'm making it up as I go along ;). And of course Hudson Island is completely fictitious.

Thanks for reading!


	2. Once upon a time

**Author's note: **My apologies for the incredibly long delay between updates. I'm right in the thick of things at present and getting to my writing when I can. Sorry about that. Then,

A big thank you to:

**Iriomote Yamaneko Nokomis**, **Agentcaroline**, **JudgeTenderlyofMe**, **DettyisLove**, **theroadtohomeliesbetweengigs **, **Betty the Bonita**, and **TMadison** for taking the time to leave some feedback. I greatly appreciate it and love hearing from you all! :D Also, you all guessed correctly about which fairytale this is a Daniel/Betty retelling of ;).

On with the story then!

**Disclaimer: **I own absolutely nothing. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

_THREE YEARS EARLIER_

It was hot.

Daniel rolled further away from the blonde lying beside him, trying to find a cooler spot on the bed. He was still breathing hard after their exertions and could feel his shirt sticking to his back with sweat.

He hadn't bothered to take it off after he'd hauled Amanda into the secret room in the Closet, partly because he didn't have the patience to delay their amours long enough to fully undress, and partly because it wasn't worth the effort for a quick tryst in the middle of the work day.

Daniel rubbed a hand over his face, closing his eyes as he waited to get his breath back. Something hot and heavy draped across his chest. He moaned uncomfortably and without opening his eyes, dislodged the arm of the pretty receptionist from where it was pressed against him.

"It's too hot," He complained, shifting away from her again.

Amanda, however, was not to be deterred.

"You know what's hot?" She asked; the timbre of her voice dipping seductively as she rolled fully on top of him. She started to move down his body when a muffled ringing from somewhere near the floor interrupted them.

Daniel shoved Amanda off of him unceremoniously, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. She gave a huff of disappointment but he paid her no mind. Reaching down, he retrieved his discarded suit jacket, fumbling for a minute until his hand closed around his ringing mobile in one of the inner pockets.

A roguish smile rose on his lips when he saw the caller id.

"Sofia, hi," He said smoothly into the phone. "How's California?"

Sitting on the bed behind him, Amanda glared but he didn't even seem to remember that she was in the room and continued flirting with the woman on the other end of the phone.

"Really? So you liked my present then?" He murmured in response. "Well maybe you'll wear it for me sometime," He smirked, his voice intimate and just a touch more textured.

"When are you getting back?" Daniel looked momentarily put out at whatever answer he'd gotten before his handsome features smoothed out again.

"No, I understand," He continued. "Dealing with a bunch of corporate sharks takes a lot out of a girl. We can have dinner tomorrow night, once you've gotten some rest," He grinned rakishly, his voice lowering again, "you're going to need it."

He finished up the call and then turned to face Amanda. Her skirt was still slightly bunched up around her hips and her blouse was partially unbuttoned. Looking at the mussed receptionist, Daniel felt the stirrings of lust again.

"So what's hot?" He said, moving close enough to trail a finger lightly down her arm.

"What?" The pretty blonde said dumbly, still slightly dazed after hearing his conversation with the other woman.

"You asked me a question earlier," He murmured, his fingers playing with the buttons on her now wrinkled blouse. "Although," He paused, catching sight of the time on his watch, "I don't think we have time for you to tell me the answer right now. But tonight? You can sneak over to my place after work," He gave her a positively lascivious smile.

Amanda's jaw actually dropped and her green eyes widened. She was well aware of Daniel's reputation, but the nerve of the man still managed to surprise her.

"Seriously?" She was incredulous. "I just listened to you flirt and make a date with another woman, minutes after you were in bed with me, and now you're inviting me to stay over at your loft?"

"You could just say no. And I didn't ask you to stay the _whole_ night," He said dryly.

She batted at him clumsily.

"Asshole!" She snarled.

Daniel dropped his hands and stepped away from her, looking amused.

"Come on Amanda," He scoffed. "Don't pretend these are circumstances with which you are wholly unfamiliar. Unless you're waiting for..." Daniel trailed off, his hand reaching into the pocket of his slacks for his wallet.

"For what?" Amanda said dangerously, her eyes daring him. However, even Daniel recognised how tactless and crude such a suggestion would be.

"For... a good moment to return to the office and fix your make-up," He recovered.

"Speaking of," He continued as the blonde's eyes narrowed suspiciously, "we need to get you back to the social scene."

He was moving around as he spoke, retrieving her heels and discarded underwear before shoving them hastily into her arms.

"We don't have a lot of time," He continued, listening at the door for any sign that the _MODE_ seamstress had returned to the Closet, "and we can't be seen together."

"Daniel!" Amanda scolded in indignation.

"What?" He arched an arrogant eyebrow. "You can hardly act like an outraged virgin after giving yourself so enthusiastically to a reprobate like me," He shot her a mocking grin.

"Oh you jerk!" Daniel merely chuckled in response and opened the door, checking that there was no-one around to see them.

"Good, the coast is clear," He nodded in satisfaction, "you better go...go."

Amanda was still tugging her skirt down as Daniel all but shoved her out into the main room of the Closet, ignoring her indignant cries as he shut the door again, concealing himself.

It was a little odd to think that this had once been where Bradford would entertain his mistress, but Daniel couldn't deny that it had been very convenient for his purposes this afternoon. He listened to Amanda's heels click angrily as she strutted away, waited a few more moments and then walked out into the main room, carefully concealing the door behind him.

He took a minute to pick out a clean shirt, a deep purple that would make his eyes pop, and had just finished buttoning the cuffs when Philippe found him.

"Daniel, there you are," The French photographer said impatiently.

Daniel arched an eyebrow at him coolly.

"I spilled coffee on my shirt, I just came down here to change it," He lied easily.

"Well the prints are back for the feature spread, you might want to take a look at them before we go into the meeting at three. But I think you'll be pleased," Philippe replied smugly.

"With what I'm paying you, I should hope so. That is after all why I lured you away from the Elle shoot," Daniel said conspiratorially.

Philippe half snorted in reply.

"Oh and that mousy assistant of yours was also trying to get a hold of you, you were supposed to be in a meeting with some lawyer twenty minutes ago."

Daniel grimaced.

He'd been surprised when his father had hired Grace Chin to be the family attorney after Mr. Dodgson had retired. But according to the firm of Anderson & Grimm, when it came to legal matters, The Chin, as she was known, could work magic.

However, she wasn't overly fond of Daniel. On the few occasions he'd met her, he got the distinct impression that she didn't approve of him. There was a sense of dislike, almost of loathing that seemed to simmer beneath the surface of all her interactions with him.

"Give me thirty minutes then meet me in my office," Daniel continued. "I've just got to sign some papers with The Chin, it shouldn't take too long."

Philippe nodded and then paused, wrinkling his nose slightly.

"Was there something else?" Daniel asked, wondering at the Frenchman's reaction.

"I thought I smelled perfume," Philippe said curiously.

Daniel kept his face carefully composed.

"I don't think you did, Philippe," He said.

The French photographer eyed him suspiciously before his lips quirked in a knowing smile. "Whatever you say, Daniel," He said finally.

Daniel could hear the other man chuckling as he left.

* * *

"Mr. Meade! Your lawyer is waiting for you in your office. And the prints for the feature-"

"Philippe already told me, Emily," Daniel cut his assistant off abruptly as she caught him in the tube. "Instead of blurting out my business to the whole office, get my messages to me on time and don't make _MODE_ photographers do your job for you," He said harshly.

"But I couldn't-" At Daniel's sharp look the young woman snapped her mouth shut, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "I'm very sorry Mr. Meade. It won't happen again," She finished contritely.

"No it won't," He said firmly. "Now make yourself useful and pick up the jackets for the Burberry shoot. Also, I didn't have time for lunch so make sure you stop by Masa on your way back and pick me up my usual. You can also take this to my dry cleaners while you're out," He said, handing her his shirt from earlier in the day, "Don't be longer than thirty minutes," He rattled off.

Poor Emily was fighting to keep her expression neutral, horrified by the fact that all three of those tasks took place in completely different parts of the city. How on earth was she going to make it back to the office in under thirty minutes?

But her boss had already stalked off to his office so Emily hurried to grab her purse from her desk and then headed for the elevator, cursing her luck for getting the most demanding boss in the world.

"Why are you so mean to her?"

Daniel stopped short at the remark.

"Good afternoon, Miss Chin," He replied politely. "I'm sorry to have kept you waiting."

Grace Chin had been watching his interaction with his assistant keenly through the fishbowl window. Her eyes, dark and sharp as pins, regarded him coldly now.

"I sincerely doubt that," She retorted. "And you haven't answered my question."

Daniel shrugged.

"It's her job," He said as though it should be obvious. "Emily is my assistant; she's supposed to make my life easier and..._assist_!"

"There's still such a thing as common courtesy, even for assistants," Grace said.

"Look, I don't have to explain myself to you," Daniel said, growing impatient with the subject. "I'll treat my employees however the hell I want. Now I've got other things to do so if we could get to the business at hand?"

Grace raised an eyebrow at his curt tone, but didn't say anything else.

"Of course," She replied coolly. "I just need you to sign some papers. It's what you and your father agreed to last month," She handed him the documents. Daniel looked over the papers eagerly. It was amazing to think that a few signatures handed him everything he'd ever wanted.

"Thank you, Daniel," Grace said, gathering the papers back after he'd signed the last one, "you are now CEO of Meade Publications. I think your father plans to make the official announcement at your birthday party, at the end of the week."

"But I already have authority as CEO from now?" He queried.

"As soon as I file these papers, which I should do within the hour, then yes. You have power as CEO, effective immediately."

"Good," Daniel smirked. "Then as soon as you've filed those papers, I want you to draw up a brief for the immediate liquidation of _Hot Flash_."

"Your mother's magazine?" Grace looked at Daniel in surprise.

"That's the one."

"Would you like to have a meeting with Mrs. Meade to discuss it?" Grace asked.

"What for?" Daniel scoffed. "She's got nothing to do with these kinds of decisions. I'll just have a memo sent out to her and the rest of the _Hot Flash_ staff that they'll all need to find other employment soon. And you can look it over to make sure we've covered all our legal bases."

"If you think that's best," Grace said, the tone of her voice clearly suggesting that _she_ didn't, "I'll be in touch again soon, then." She got her things together and was about to leave when Daniel's voice stopped her.

"You don't like my decision," He remarked. "In fact, you don't like _me_ very much at all, do you?"

"I'm your attorney, Daniel. I don't have to like you; I just have to represent you. Sorry if that hurts your feelings," Grace retorted sarcastically.

Daniel smirked.

"I'll bet it drives you crazy. Knowing that I'm one of the most influential people in this city; the kind of prospects and connections I've got; that I can do whatever I want."

"I wouldn't be too sure about that," Grace said quietly.

"I just can't work out if it's a general hatred towards the rich, good-looking, powerful people, or just me in particular," He carried on taunting her. "But I'm not such a bad guy if you actually took a chance and got to know me," He flashed his usual mocking grin.

"Oh, but I do know you," Grace said, taking a step closer towards him, "all too well. You're the kind of guy who's been given absolutely everything you've ever wanted. But you use your position of privilege to treat everyone else poorly. You take what you want and don't care who you hurt in the process; think that you have the right to treat people like they don't matter. You're selfish and spoilt. And all the while, the world just sees you gleam."

"You should be careful Grace. That smacks strongly of bitterness," He retorted.

Daniel stepped back against his desk. Throughout her speech, Grace had been gaining on him and despite her small frame she was surprisingly intimidating.

"I'm not bitter, Daniel. I just don't like imbalance. But you are mistaken if you think that there won't be consequences," She gave an enigmatic smile that was just this side of eerie and her sable eyes seemed to bore holes into him.

"Mark my words," She breathed. "There will be a price."

He smirked at her and looked faintly amused as he stepped around the petit lawyer to put some distance between them.

"Is that supposed to be some sort of threat?" He scoffed.

"Just a friendly word of caution," Grace replied and there was that secretive smile again. "Next time you get the chance to show you're not as callous and selfish as you seem, you might want to take it."

With one last meaningful glance at him over her shoulder, The Chin left him.

Daniel shook his head at her words. He was a little more affected by their encounter than he would like to admit.

She had seemed almost smug, as if she knew something he didn't and that made him uncomfortable. And the way she talked, as though he was breaking some kind of law just because he wasn't nice to people and doing the whole caring and sharing thing.

But that was ridiculous. Daniel Meade was a law unto himself. He got what he wanted and he did what he wanted. So whatever Grace Chin was trying to sell, he wasn't buying.

"Mr. Meade?"

Daniel startled out of this thoughts, nearly jumping out of his skin, and spun round on his heel in surprise. Unfortunately his momentum was such that he overbalanced and ended up falling on his backside. There was a moment of shocked silence before Daniel jumped back to his feet, fighting down a flush of embarrassment.

"Damnit Emily! How many times have I told you not to sneak up on me like that," He scolded, conveniently ignoring the fact that this was the first time it had happened.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Meade," the girl apologised, adjusting her glasses nervously. "But Philippe Canet is here to see you. Shall I tell him to come through?"

"Yes, that's fine," Daniel said impatiently.

Emily nodded and quickly went to fetch the Frenchman but not before Daniel caught the faint smile on her face as she turned away.

She was laughing at him!

He felt a roiling in his gut at the thought but there was no time to call her on it. Emily was back the next moment with Philippe and Daniel brusquely instructed her to take notes for the meeting later that afternoon. As Daniel discussed his ideas for the pitch, Philippe nodded in approval.

"I like it," He said. "It's very edgy, almost avant-garde. It reminds me of a collection I saw in Paris once. Brilliant photographer...Manech...Manech..." Philippe struggled to remember the name.

"Bretodeau," Emily piped up suddenly.

"That's it!"

"You're talking about his "Time in Memoriam" collection," Emily continued unthinkingly. "There are some similarities. Although our prints remind me a lot of a feature _The World_ did, a few years back. A very similar theme with the whole nature-industrial revolution contrast. Funnily enough, that was inspired by the Bretodeau photographs."

The young woman looked up from her notes, only just noticing the silence in the room. Daniel was looking at her with an almost murderous expression, while Philippe looked amused.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Daniel bit out, his voice dangerously low. "Our article reminds you of a feature you saw in _The World_? Just what are you implying?"

Emily looked nervous and started shuffling her notes.

"Nothing, I just-"

"Are you saying that I stole the idea from another publication; that I copied it," His voice was getting louder now.

"No! Of course not! I was just saying-"

"Uh...Emily...was it?" Philippe quickly jumped in, seeing that Daniel was about to lose his temper. "Why don't you fetch us some coffee? Not from the office machine though. There's a nice little cafe over on 4th street. Fetch us two lattes, ok?"

The girl nodded, scrambling to her feet and evidently recognising an out when she was being offered one.

"Can you believe that girl?!" Daniel burst out, the moment she was gone. "Questioning my creative integrity like that!"

"Oh come on, Daniel," Philippe tried to placate his friend. "She didn't mean anything by it. She was making an innocent comparison. That girl's a lot smarter than she looks," He added idly.

"Well that's not saying much, since she's hardly something to look at," Daniel sniped meanly, still smarting slightly from his earlier embarrassment and the way she'd made him look like an idiot now.

"I'll give you that," Philippe agreed. "The girl may be smart, but she's definitely not the kind of woman you want representing your office, especially in this industry. People won't stick around long enough to hear what she's got to say if she looks like her wardrobe was picked out by a blind Sunday school teacher. She wears way too much polyester," Philippe shuddered slightly, "and isn't she a little old for braces? What the hell possessed you to hire her for a fashion magazine?"

"I didn't," Daniel said grumpily. "My father did. Apparently, I have a hard time writing a brief when my attractive assistants are more interested in-"

"Removing yours?" Philippe interjected; a wicked smile on his face.

"Pretty much," Daniel smirked. "Anyway, I'm not allowed to fire Emily."

"But isn't your father retiring anyway? You're the top dog now."

"With certain stipulations," Daniel sighed. "One of which is my father picks out my assistant."

"So you're going to have to take Emily with you even when you move to the top office next month? That sucks."

Daniel shrugged.

"It's not ideal, but it works out okay most of the time."

"Still though. Do you really want her to be representing the Daniel Meade brand? _That's_ the first impression people will get when they come to your office?"

Daniel frowned. He didn't like the idea of Emily ruining his image; of his name being associated with her braces, and frizzy hair, and polyester blends. But she was who his father had picked.

"Of course not," He sighed. "But my hands are tied here. I told you, I can't-"

"Fire her, I know. But your dad can't do anything if she _quits_ of her own free will."

Daniel raised an eyebrow at that.

"Ok, you've got my attention," He said, the corners of his mouth quirking with a conspiratorial smile. He felt an odd sensation suddenly, as Grace Chin's words, less than an hour before drifted back to him.

"_Next time you get the chance to show you're not as callous and selfish as you seem, you might want to take it."_

He dismissed it though in favour of hearing Philippe's suggestion.

"What exactly did you have in mind?"

* * *

**AN 2: **Elements of this chapter should be familiar. It's a deliberate redeployment ;). I went backwards and forwards on whether or not Betty should be his assistant, but ultimately decided to go with the original fairytale where they have no knowledge of each other before his transformation. Thanks for reading!


	3. The die is cast

**Author's note:** Whew! This was a real b**ch to write lol! In an enjoyable way though. I just hope I've succeeded in making all the elements in this chapter come together in an imaginative but still believable way. Also, to _Dettyislove_, there is something in this chapter just for you. It's something small and will only be properly revealed in the next chapter. But it was my discussion with you that prompted me to include it in the first place ;). Now, for the thank yous:

To: **fenyx, JudgeTenderlyofMe, TMadison, Betty the Bonita, theroadtohomeliesbetweengigs , Iriomote Yamaneko Nokomis, DettyisLove, and Agentcaroline. **A big THANK YOU for taking the time to leave such lovely comments. It's always nice to hear that your readers are enjoying the story.

Speaking of which, to anyone else reading, thank you for giving my story some of your time! I appreciate it.

**Dislcaimer: **I own absolutely nothing. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

Daniel Meade's 28th birthday celebration was held at The Mandarin Oriental Hotel. It was a lavish affair, as Meade functions always were, with a guest list of close to a hundred that read like a who's who of New York's most elite and influential people. A handful of press were also present, invited to get a few shots of the city's most eligible bachelor and soon to be crowned prince of the Meade publishing empire.

_Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you!_

_Happy birthday dear Daniel! Happy birthday to you!_

The Meade heir smiled politely as his party guests applauded, murmuring thank you to those that gave him personal congratulations or a pat on the back as he made his way across the ballroom. He joined Bradford in the centre of the room, where he stood waiting to make the main toast.

"Good evening everyone," Bradford greeted with a practiced smile. "I'd like to thank you all for coming tonight and joining us in honouring this handsome young man, standing next to me," Bradford nodded towards his son, "Just like his old man, yes?" He added to the crowd who laughed lightly in response.

"But before I raise this toast to Daniel, I'd just like to say that tonight, is the culmination of one of my greatest wishes and desires. That is the continuance of a great legacy," Bradford said proudly.

"Daniel, you are no ordinary son. And you have no ordinary father. For the past twenty eight years, the seat of Meade Publications has been waiting for you. Well, it's yours now. It's yours by inheritance and right. I pass on the torch to you, as your grandfather did before me," His father said soberly. "There isn't anything else I can give you, so love it for what it is and make it burn always, with the hardest flame."

At Daniel's nod, the older Meade smiled breaking the seriousness of the moment.

"To Daniel," Bradford pronounced, raising his glass and the rest of the party repeated the action. "And to your future as the head of Meade; may you get everything you deserve and desire. Welcome to the top. It's where you belong. Happy Birthday, Son."

The guests applauded and as the music started up once more, they splintered again into little groups, the party continuing. Daniel shook hands with his father before spotting Sofia Reyes watching him on the other side of the room.

She looked gorgeous in a form-fitting gown that accentuated every graceful curve and he was reminded of his failed conquest with her the other evening. But, from the way she was looking at him now, that would all change tonight.

"Sofia, hi," He said as he came to stand beside her. Sofia returned his greeting with a teasing smile that promised good things for the rest of the evening.

"Happy Birthday," She breathed and leaned up to kiss his cheek, her lips lingering a little longer than a friendly peck would require.

Daniel couldn't help but smirk as she pulled back. He hadn't seen Sofia since their dinner three nights ago and she was proving to be a little hard to pin down.

Not for much longer though.

"I'm glad you could make it," He said. "I thought you were going to be in London this weekend."

"My meeting got postponed to Monday," Sofia explained. "So I'm all yours," she looked at him from under her lashes and Daniel's grin turned wolfish.

It was on the tip of his tongue to follow her remark with a suggestive comment of his own, when someone lightly tapped his shoulder.

"Congratulations, Daniel. Oh and Happy Birthday."

Daniel groaned inwardly as he saw Grace Chin standing behind him. He noticed Sofia glancing suspiciously between him and the attractive attorney, and quickly made some introductions.

"It's nice to meet you," Sofia said politely.

"Charmed, I'm sure," Grace quipped. "I'm sorry to interrupt but do you mind if I borrow the birthday boy here for a moment? We won't be long."

With a sigh, Daniel apologised and excused himself. He let Grace guide him across the floor and lead him out of the ballroom through the large double doors on to the balcony. The sounds of the party, laughter and light music, drifted over to them and there was the faint scent of roses in the crisp evening air.

"I didn't know you were coming tonight," He sniped, mildly irritated at being pulled away from Sofia just when he was starting to get somewhere.

"I got here just in time for the main speech. _'May you get everything you deserve'_. Interesting choice of words there," Grace remarked.

"Alright, enough with the banter," Daniel said impatiently. "What do you want Grace? Why did you drag me out here?"

At those words the attorney lost her playful demeanour.

"Daniel, has it escaped your notice that your mother is not here tonight?" She said pointedly.

"I noticed," He shrugged.

"And it didn't strike you as strange?"

"Why would it?" He retorted. "It isn't the first time. Claire Meade is a busy woman."

"Yes, well, this time it wasn't the trust fund brigade's latest charity dinner that kept her," Grace said dryly. "Earlier this evening while going for her usual spa treatment, your mother became intoxicated after drinking the bath oil, which evidently has a much higher alcohol content than you'd think," Grace added idly as Daniel's eyebrows rose so high, they almost disappeared into his hairline.

"I'm guessing that's not the worst of it," He said apprehensively.

"No," Grace shook her head. "Your mother then proceeded to leave said spa, missing crucial items of clothing-" Daniel cringed in embarrassment, "-and was subsequently arrested shortly afterwards for public indecency. She may have also started giving a rendition of Joni Mitchell's "I wish I had a river"," Grace concluded.

Daniel groaned.

"Goddamnit! Please tell me the paparazzi didn't get any of this," He said looking at Grace with a long-suffering expression.

"Fortunately not," The attorney shook her head. "I've spent the last few hours doing damage control. The staff at the spa is going to keep quiet and anyone who happened to be in the general vicinity only knows that there was an incident, but no specifics. They don't know who or what."

"Well, good," Daniel said urgently. "Let's keep it that way." He released a frustrated sound.

"What the hell was she thinking, pulling something like this and _tonight_ of all nights. Does she have any idea how important tonight is? How embarrassing it would be if anyone found out?"

Grace looked at Daniel incredulously.

"That's your main concern? Does the fact that your mother just threw away five years of sobriety mean nothing to you?"

"I suppose I should call a sponsor," Daniel remarked idly. "Do you know why she lost it tonight?"

"She might have been a _little_ upset that her magazine was being canned to make space for a few page three girls," Grace retorted.

"Hey! _Player_ is a legitimate magazine," Daniel said defensively. "I've looked at the projections for circulation; it'll make significant profits and a good deal more than some sad rag for menopausal mummies. My decision was in the best interests of the company."

"She's not arguing with that," The Chin retorted. "But instead of her finding out in some anonymous, mass email, she deserved to be told, in person, by her son, _before_ he went ahead with everything."

"That's what this is about? She went back on the sauce, if you can even call it that, over some email?" Daniel made an impatient gesture. "It was just business."

"Is that what you said about Emily?" Grace said, her voice dangerously low. "Are you as indifferent to your own mother's fate as you were to that poor girl?"

She scoffed slightly. "I have eyes and ears, Daniel. And your fashion industry set does love to gossip," She said in response to his questioning gaze. "Very little goes on in those quarters that I don't eventually hear about."

"Well then you should know that I didn't _fire _Emily. She quit. It was her choice to leave _MODE_," Daniel said, not sure why he felt the need to explain himself to Grace.

"And that little stunt you pulled with the Fabia shoot had nothing to do with it," She remarked sarcastically. "Come on, Daniel. You asked Emily to do that shoot knowing it would make her the laughing stock of the whole office. You deliberately set out to humiliate her, to the point where she wouldn't be able to stand it. And that would be one less frumpy assistant for you to worry about."

Daniel felt something odd twist in his gut as he thought over what had happened the day before: his and Philippe's plan; Emily running out of the shoot in tears, still dressed in that ridiculous leather outfit; and the faintest glimmer of remorse he'd felt as he watched her. But the feeling had been fleeting, and he hadn't given the girl another thought until Grace had mentioned the incident now.

He cleared his throat; the stony gaze of legal counsel Grace Chin still trained on him.

"Alright," He said begrudgingly, "I may have set things in motion for it," He admitted. "And maybe it did go too far; it was a little...cruel," Grace looked momentarily surprised by his honest admission.

"But she made the decision to quit on her own, and in all honesty, I can't say I was sorry to see her go. Let's face it. She was...well...a loser. Dad should never have hired her in the first place. People like that aren't meant to mix with people like me."

"Is that so?" Grace said; her voice an obvious challenge. "And who are you to say that about people _like her_? What makes you so superior?"

"Well that should be obvious," Daniel scoffed. "I'm Daniel Meade," He said; all his arrogance, his conceit, glittering around him like some pinchbeck glory.

"And I don't even know why I'm talking about this with you! You're my family's attorney, not my damn conscience! I don't have to answer to you-"

"You might not want to rush the judgement on that one," Grace muttered under her breath, too low for Daniel to hear.

"- so stop lecturing me and just do _your job_."

He'd lost his defensive air and now spoke with all the authority and pride of bearing that came with the Meade name.

"Call my mother's sponsor, sort out the charges and make her bail. And keep the press from getting wind of any of this," Daniel commanded.

"Mrs. Meade asked to see _you_, Daniel," Grace informed him. "That's why I came to speak to you first, and not your father."

"Well, I can't," Daniel said impatiently. "I'm in the middle of a party with a lot of important people who are all quite eager to suck up to me. So I'm going to enjoy myself," He hesitated a moment and seemed to be struggling with something.

"My mother can wait until tomorrow," He said finally, "I'll see her then."

Grace's expression changed then. The Chin looked like a woman resolved. But resolved to do what, he couldn't be sure.

"I know what to do," She said quietly and there was an odd resonance in her voice. "I tried to give you a chance. But I was right all along."

"What are you talking about?" Daniel said, not understanding her. "Right about what?"

"Oh it's too late now. But you'll understand soon enough," She said cryptically, her sable eyes growing impossibly darker.

"Daniel!"

He turned at the sound of his name, and saw Philippe striding towards them, a glass of champagne in hand.

"People are starting to ask where you are, and if you don't want Sofia to think you and Mademoiselle Chin are out here getting intimately acquainted with each other," the Frenchman slurred slightly, evidently a little inebriated, "you'd better get back in there." Philippe looked around, then turned his questioning gaze to Daniel. "I thought she came out here with you."

"What?" Daniel spun around, and sure enough, Grace Chin had vanished without a trace. "She was right here! How can she...people don't just disappear into thin air!"

Philippe raised his eyebrows lazily as Daniel gaped at their surroundings. The alcohol had clearly dulled his senses a little.

"Forget it, Daniel. At least you're rid of her right? Let's just get back inside. It's too cold out here anyway," He said; his friend was clearly bewildered and a little shaken.

But he finally nodded and with several, wary, backward glances Daniel began to walk slowly towards the ballroom.

* * *

Daniel bolted upright in bed, gasping in fright at the strange voice from his dreams. His heart was pounding so hard, he feared it might beat right out of his chest. He wiped a hand over his face, trying to calm himself and the skin was clammy. He'd broken into a cold sweat.

Squinting slightly, his eyes adjusting to the darkness of his bedroom, Daniel peered at the clock on his bedside table. The digital face told him that it was fifteen minutes till midnight. With a groan, he fell back against the pillows. This wasn't the first time tonight he had that strange dream.

Contrary to his words to the nosy attorney, Daniel had not enjoyed the rest of his evening. Shortly after he had come back in from the balcony he'd been hit by a sudden spell of dizziness. It had passed relatively quickly but he had still felt uncomfortable, off somehow. He could not explain it, but he just knew that something wasn't quite right.

In the end, he had decided to leave the party early and convinced Sofia to join him, certain that a round of sex with a beautiful woman was just what he needed to get over whatever insanity seemed to have come over him suddenly.

They had gone to her apartment and Daniel had bedded her thoroughly, earning every inch of his reputation. Afterwards he'd been dozing lightly, Sofia already asleep beside him, when he had the strange dream.

_He was walking in a great garden bordered by a hedge of the most beautiful roses on either side of it, their sweet floral scent overwhelming his senses. He could hear the sound of a brook babbling nearby and in the centre of the garden was a fountain. At the fountain's edge there grew a patch of Gerber daisies. He sneered slightly at the simple flowers as his feet led him to sit on the grassy bank in the shade of a pair of myrtle trees. _

_Just then a sharp, cold wind came whistling through the trees carrying with it a ghostly, disembodied voice._

"_Kind hearts are the gardens, kind words are the roots, kind thoughts are the blossoms, kind deeds are the fruits. So take care of your garden and keep out the weeds, or else fear the mistress who punishes cruel deeds."_

_He shivered as the wind whipped at his neck and face, the contrast between heat and cold stinging his cheeks. Then something strange started to happen. All the roses in the garden, the myrtle trees, started dying. But the Gerber daisies, the only flowers he had not cared for, remained in full bloom. He walked back towards the fountain to get a closer look and caught sight of his reflection in the water. Only it wasn't him but the terrible face of a disfigured man. He jumped back in fright and the voice came again. _

"_Do not be fooled by appearances. A fine face can conceal an ungrateful, treacherous heart. But true beauty too, is also found within."_

At that point Daniel had startled awake. Bewildered and disturbed by the dream, he'd scrambled out of bed and left Sofia alone, sneaking out of her apartment. On the way home he'd caught his reflection in the town car window and for one horrifying moment, thought he saw the image of the disfigured man again.

When he was finally within the sanctuary of his apartment, he shook off his wild imaginings as the result of fatigue and stress. It had been a long, eventful week and between getting things ready for his new position at Meade, conspiring to drive his now ex-assistant away, and having to put up with his meddlesome family lawyer, he was pretty beat.

Yes, that's all it was, he reasoned. So he downed a glass of Scotch, took a shower and then went to bed; ignoring the fact that it was only ten thirty and just eager for the oblivion of sleep. But oblivion did not come and he had the dream again; the images and sensations even more vivid the second time.

Daniel swallowed hard and his throat felt as dry as sandpaper. He decided getting a glass of water would be a good idea and started to get out of bed, but he must have been tossing and turning in his sleep because his legs were tangled in the Egyptian cotton sheets. Daniel ended up falling out of his bed in an awkward tumble.

Cursing slightly as he got to his feet, he kicked at the errant sheet before making his way to the hallway. He had forgotten to close the blinds in the apartment and a silvery stream of moonlight lit up the living room as he passed through to the kitchen.

His loft had a magnificent view of the city skyline but Daniel had never paid much attention to it, other than to use it as a part of the seduction of his latest fling. Women were always impressed by it, finding it thrilling and romantic to be romanced while the city sparkled like a case of precious jewels before them. That was the only reason he'd insisted on buying a place with a great view.

Daniel walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge, retrieving a bottle of water. He unscrewed the bottle cap, letting it fall to the floor and leaned tiredly against the stainless steel fridge door, his eyes closed as he took a long sip of water.

"Hello Daniel."

"Shit!"

Startled out of his wits, Daniel coughed and spilled some water down his bare chest. When it registered that the voice that had just spoken was real, and not some leftover fragment from his dream, Daniel looked up and his eyes widened in shock at the sight of Grace Chin standing in his kitchen doorway.

Unlike the smart, tailored business suits he was used to seeing her in, she was dressed now in a black silk kimono with a pattern of decorative red roses. Instead of her usual bobbed haircut, dark, raven tresses cascaded over her shoulders like a dark waterfall. Her eyes were outlined in thick, black kohl, making them appear larger and her lips were painted blood red.

What the hell was going on? And why did Grace Chin suddenly look like she belonged in a scene from _House of Flying Daggers_?

Daniel blinked twice, fighting against the sudden panic he felt rising in his chest. This was all too strange.

"What the f-! What are you doing in my apartment?" He snapped. "How did you even get in here?"

The Chin smirked.

"Deadbolts and security codes are hardly a match for someone like me," She retorted.

"You mean a self-righteous, meddling lawyer?" Daniel quipped irritably, not understanding any of this and still feeling his heart race. Grace's smirk actually widened at that and the sight was very disconcerting.

"That is what you know me as, yes. But it is not my true form. I am one of the Eight Immortals and I am here to pass out your judgement, Daniel Meade," She said, in a voice as clear and strong as a bell.

Daniel laughed weakly.

"This is some sort of joke, right?" He said in disbelief. "You paid off the building super or something and dressed up in this get-up to what? Scare me or something. It's a joke," He repeated lamely.

"Do you see me laughing, Daniel?" Grace took a step towards him and Daniel instinctively recoiled, his back pressed up against the fridge door.

"Look Grace whatever you want, money or shares of Meade, you can have it. Just leave me alone and we can forget this whole thing ever happened."

Grace looked amused at his pathetic attempt to buy her off.

"Material possessions are of no interest to me. The Chin wants justice. And there is no forgetting anything. You are going to answer for your actions," She said coldly.

"Ok," Daniel said slowly. "You clearly believe this whole immortal thing. But this is the real world. Stuff like that doesn't exist. I don't know what you're on Grace, but we can get you help," He said warily.

She actually laughed at that and Daniel looked at her like she'd grown a second head.

"There is nothing wrong with me, Daniel," She said eventually. "You didn't take my advice. I warned you that your unkindness, your poor treatment of others would not go unpunished. A fine face can conceal an ungrateful, treacherous heart, but not from me. The eyes of the Immortals see all."

The bottle of water hit the floor with a loud smack! Daniel staggered backwards further into the kitchen in fright. As Grace repeated the words from his dream, he realized that she _was _the voice in his dream! This was _real_.

"I see you Daniel. I see that there is only spite and ingratitude in your heart; no compassion, no love."

"I'm sorry," He cried desperately as her eyes seemed to bore holes into him. "I'm sorry, alright. Just please, give me a chance."

The Chin said nothing and her gaze on him never faltered. He felt unbearably hot and his skin was prickling, as though he had a thousand pins and needles all over his body.

"Please," Daniel tried again. His legs gave out suddenly and he fell to the floor on his knees.

"I'm sorry Daniel, but it is far too late for that," She said quietly. "You brought this on yourself. You were able to conceal your bad behaviour with a charming smile and a handsome face. But in truth, you are ugly Daniel. And now you will show who you are on the inside in your external appearance too."

The Chin handed him an antique-looking, ornate mirror that he had not noticed her holding before. Hesitantly, he peered into it but nothing could prepare him for the sight that met his eyes.

Daniel let out an anguished cry, hurling the small mirror but The Chin moved like lightning and deftly caught it, securing it in the belt of her kimono.

"Stop that," She commanded, her tone clipped and annoyed. "You will not see me again for some time and there are things you need to know."

"What...what have you done to me?" Daniel cried. "I'm...I'm...What have you done! I can't be this way!"

"Silence!"

He cowered slightly at her tone and The Chin continued.

"The curse you are under is very, very powerful magic," She said gravely. "There is only one way to break the spell."

At those words Daniel looked up at her, faintly hopeful.

"How?" He said; his voice urgent.

"If you can learn to love another, and earn her love in return, you will be freed from the curse and your original looks will be restored."

Daniel laughed bitterly and got to his feet.

"Are you kidding me? You expect me to get some girl to fall in love with me, looking like this? It's an impossible task. This thing is rigged from the start!" He yelled.

"Not if you find someone with a clean pair of eyes; someone who you can help to see past all that," Grace retorted.

"Easy as that, huh?" Daniel bit out with a murderous glare. His fists clenched and his jaw tightened. Sudden anger was burning through his veins, twisting in his belly, and he was practically shaking as he tried to restrain his emotions.

The Chin, however, was unfazed.

"It's the only way, Daniel. If you can't do it, then you will remain as you are now, forever."

Those were the last words The Chin spoke to him. There was a sudden flash of light, so bright Daniel had to shield his eyes away from it.

When it passed, he was alone once more in his kitchen and standing in a puddle of water that had spilled out of his dropped bottle. Daniel caught sight of the clock on the microwave and saw that it was a minute after midnight.

There was no sign of Grace Chin anywhere; nothing to signify that anything remarkable had taken place only moments earlier.

In fact, he would have thought he'd imagined the whole thing, if not for the moment when he bent down to retrieve the empty water bottle that had rolled next to the fridge, and was met with his hideous reflection as he looked up at the stainless steel fridge door.

Daniel doesn't remember what happened after that.

He passed out.

* * *

**AN 2: **The "Kind hearts are like gardens" rhyme is a poem that belongs to Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. However, I changed the last line "Or else fear the mistress..." to suit my own purposes. You will get a description of how Daniel looks now but not quite yet. Also, technically a kimono is Japanese and Grace is actually Chinese. But I figured most of us would be more familiar with the kimono than the Chinese cheongsam. Thanks for reading!


	4. Fate comes knocking

**Author's note:** If anyone's still reading this, I can't apologise enough for leaving you hanging for so long. The muse has been evasive and real life was turned upside down lately. But this story has not been abandoned. It will be continued and eventually concluded. Hopefully, updates will be more regular from now on.

To everyone who has read or reviewed _A Clean Pair of Eyes_, your continued support is greatly appreciated. Thanks for sticking with this story!

**Disclaimer:** I own absolutely nothing. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

_PRESENT DAY_

It was the thunder that woke him.

Daniel cracked open one eye and gazed blearily at the room around him.

He was lying on the floor of the attic, a position he wasn't wholly unfamiliar with. Glancing at the still full bottle of expensive Scotch resting on the floor beside him, he wasn't sure whether his abstaining from the alcohol was a sign of progress or growing apathy.

Had he actually become so pathetic he couldn't even be a convincing figure of misery; drowning his sorrows, as figures of misery do, on a particularly hideous night?

Even Christina, his loud-mouthed Scottish housekeeper who, most days, alternated between telling him off, and trying to rouse him from the perpetual bad mood he'd been in for the last three years; even she let him alone, let him wallow on _this day._

Struggling to his feet, Daniel rubbed at his eyes. The lids felt dry and scratchy as though he'd gone too long without blinking. He padded across to the lancet windows of the mansard roof, the only windows in the entire house that weren't hidden under thick curtains. But the roof was too high up for anyone on the outside to get a look in.

The sky had turned a very dark blue and there wasn't a single star in sight as angry storm clouds gathered in an odd sort of parody of his darkening mood. With a sigh, Daniel leaned his forehead against the pane. Three years he'd been trapped here, never daring to venture outside the walls of the mansion.

He had almost forgotten what it was like to walk down 52nd street on an autumn day, the smell of hotdogs from that little stand on the corner carried on the air, while a crisp wind whipped at his face and all around him the city throbbed with a life and breath of its own.

_Flash!_

A streak of lightning suddenly lit up the window, his distorted features reflected in the glass.

No.

His life now consisted of four solid walls and a few afternoons spent by a window, staring out at the sun. Daniel's fists clenched around the neck of the bottle and his jaw tightened with frustration. He spun round on his heel and hurled the bottle at the nearest wall as hard as he could.

The glass shattered with a satisfying _crash!_ and Daniel dropped to his knees. Anger burned through his veins, twisted in his belly.

But then something happened that he did not expect - a second crash, somewhere in the lower levels of the house.

With reflexes like a cat, Daniel jumped to his feet. He made his way to the door, gingerly peering out into the deserted corridor; his head cocked like a bird, his entire body tensed as though preparing for an attack.

There it was. A chorus of harried voices, clearly arguing, echoed off the mansion walls.

"_You're a real jackass, you know that? What kinda stupid game are you playin', burstin' in here like this-?!" _

"_Keep your mouth shut Vinnie! I'm sorry to get you mixed up in this, honest, but you've got your brother to thank for that."_

"_You know this bloke! Bloody hell! What is-"_

"_SHUT YOUR MOUTH LADY!"_

"_Jesus, Santos, take it easy will ya!"_

"_Don't tell me what to do! I'm calling the shots here alright." _

"_Sure, fine. I ain't arguing with that, I'm just trying to help. So let's just stay calm and make this easy on everyone, yeah?"_

"_Fine. Then just tell me where the cash is?!"_

"_What are you talking about, money. There's no-"_

"_Christina, let me handle this. And you - quit waving that thing in my face..."_

Daniel froze.

There was a _stranger_ in his home.

* * *

_TEN MINUTES EARLIER..._

**Buzz! Buzz!**

"Bloody hell!" Christina nearly spilled her tea at the sound, the hot liquid swirling dangerously close to the rim of her cup.

Vincent, who was dozing lightly, his lanky form sprawled across the sofa, arched a dark eyebrow lazily.

"Was that..." He yawned, fighting off sleep, "the _front gate_?"

**Buzz! Buzz!**

The intercom went off again.

"It could be Mrs. Meade," Christina speculated.

"She always calls first. And she hasn't been here in over a year, not since...well..."

**Buzz! Buzz!**

"Whoever they are, they're bloody persistent," The Scotswoman stared at the intercom curiously.

"Christina, don't," Vincent said warningly; he could guess the housekeeper's intentions. "Remember what Daniel said...Christina!"

But it was too late. Paying no attention to his protests, she made up her mind and answered the intercom.

"Hello?"

"Hello! Oh thank God!" It was a woman's voice on the other end and she sounded extremely relieved.

"I'm lost and my car just broke down-" the woman continued.

"She's lost her way and her car won't start..." Christina repeated to Vincent in a loud stage whisper.

"Christina, no! Don't even think about it!" The driver said firmly.

"I don't want to cause any trouble, but I need some help. Could I maybe use your phone?"

"Of course lass," Christina replied, while Vincent made frantic gestures, trying to stop her. "I'll buzz you in and we'll see what we can do," She finished kindly.

"Are you OUTTA YOUR MIND, woman?" Vincent burst out the minute she'd hung up.

"Daniel explicitly told us no visitors in the house – EVER! Did you spend too much time in the kitchen today and the fumes from the gas stove addled your memory of that _pleasant _conversation?"

"Watch it, Bianchi," Christina retorted sharply.

Vincent shook his head.

"This is bad. This is really bad. Daniel will have our heads for this..."

"Oh stop your moaning!" The Scotswoman tutted. "I'm not about to leave some poor woman stuck out there in a storm."

"If Daniel finds out..."

"Daniel is dead to the world. He won't even know she's here and she'll be gone before he's any the wiser," Christina said easily.

Vincent didn't look convinced but the front doorbell chimed before he could respond.

Begrudgingly, he went with Christina to open the door but instead of the lone woman they'd expected, there was an unexpectedly familiar man standing by her side.

But that wasn't what was most alarming.

Vincent was much more unnerved by the gun in the man's hands - the gun that was trained on them.

"MOVE!" He barked.

Yes, Vincent thought to himself as the couple – clearly in on this together – forced their way in.

This had definitely been a bad idea.

* * *

Daniel, following the sound of the voices, had made his way stealthily to the landing of the first floor. He was now crouching against the balustrade, peering between the balusters at what was going on in the front hallway below.

A strange man had a gun pointed at Christina, who looked somewhere between scared and annoyed. There was a broken cup lying in pieces at her feet which explained the crash he'd heard earlier. Vincent appeared to know the intruder and was trying to reason with him.

There was a woman with him also. She was attractive, Daniel noted absently: olive complexion, long dark hair pulled up into a high ponytail, short skirt revealing a pair of shapely legs paired with knee high boots. She wore one too many accessories for his liking, but otherwise, she was a lot like the kind of women he would have made a play for in the past.

She was evidently with the man wielding the gun, but looked much more uncomfortable and distinctly nervous as she fiddled with the strap of the tote slung over her shoulder.

"_I've had enough of this!"_

Daniel's attention snapped back to the man. Vincent's powers of persuasion were not working. As he watched the action unfold below Daniel realised that it was going to be up to him to get them out of this.

* * *

"I've had enough of this!" Santos snapped impatiently. "Baby," this was directed towards the woman, "get a chair from the other room."

"Santos..." The woman looked at him uncertainly.

"Just do it!" He snapped.

Christina and Vincent exchanged worried looks. It didn't take long for the woman to return with the chair.

"Vinnie – sit," Santos instructed. "Come on, move it!" He barked when Vincent didn't move fast enough.

Vincent obediently took his seat, all the while keeping his eye on the gun that Santos still had fixed on Christina.

"Tie him to the chair, use the rope in the bag," Santos continued.

Christina gasped and the woman hesitated a moment before complying with her boyfriend's instructions.

"Now wait a minute," Vincent protested as the woman worked on restraining him. "You don't have to do that."

"Look, I'm sorry Vinnie. But you're full of shit. And you always did run your mouth off too much," Santos smirked slightly. "Your brother told me all about the rich weirdo you work for, who never leaves his big, rich mansion. So don't try and tell me that he's not rollin' init."

"Okay, fine. Yeah, he's rich," Vincent conceded whilst the woman tightened the last knot around his wrists. "But wealthy guys like him never keep their cash at home. Come on Santos, use your head! They keep it in banks, stocks, investments! Whatever you're lookin' for, you ain't gonna find it here!"

"No," Santos shook his head fiercely, growing more agitated.

Christina swallowed nervously as the hallway light glinted off the metal of the gun and even the woman flinched at the sudden ire in his tone.

"Joseph told me-"

"Joseph was _wrong,_"Vincent interrupted. "But there's still time to fix this. The guy you're trying to rob is upstairs asleep. You can walk away right now and no-one ever needs to know this happened," He offered.

Santos drew in a shaky breath, his steely gaze shifting from Vincent to Christina, whom he was still aiming the gun at.

"Baby, maybe he's right," the woman spoke up. "We can just leave; we can find another way to get the money."

There was a pregnant pause as Santos seemed to weigh up their words. Then,

"No."

"Santos..."

"I'm not leaving here empty-handed," His voice was cold and firm. "Maybe there's no hard cash, but there's gotta be something in this place worth a couple of grand. So let's find it."

He turned to face Christina now, nudging her back with the gun to get her moving.

That was when the lights went out.

* * *

"What the hell?" Santos' voice rang out in the sudden darkness.

"Relax, probably just a blown fuse," Vincent called out. "It happens with old houses like this."

"Then fix it!" Santos snapped; his tone becoming more urgent.

"Well I would, but I'm a little _tied_ _up _right now," Vincent retorted dryly.

"Baby, where are you?" That was the woman's voice. "I'm-OWW!" She yelped as she stumbled into something.

"Hilda, just stay where you are," Santos ordered.

The front hallway was pitch black and their eyes were still adjusting to the lack of light. Seizing her chance, Christina tried to move away from Santos. But even in the dark, he could still sense movement beside him.

"Hey! Where do you think you're going?!" He reached for her blindly but Santos never made that last stretch of contact.

The housekeeper darted out of the way just in time as a familiar figure hurtled across the hallway. Daniel tackled Santos to the ground with a loud OOF! of sound. Caught completely unaware, Santos went down hard and felt the gun slip from his grip. He grabbed wildly at his attacker, his fight-or-flight instincts kicking in. Santos swore loudly at the copper taste of blood in his mouth as he took a particularly hard knock to the jaw.

"Santos!" Hilda cried out loudly in alarm. "Stop it! That's enough! Please stop!" It sounded like she was choking back tears.

Unfortunately, Hilda's distraction had given his attacker the opening it needed. Santos failed to block the coming blow in time and the next moment, felt a muscular arm wrap tightly around his neck, locking his head underneath the assailant's arm and against his chest. Santos started to struggle against the vice-like grip but froze when he felt the cool metal of his gun against his temple.

"Who are you?" A voice rasped. "Why have you come here?!"

"I-I'm sorry-I didn't-" Santos stumbled over his words. "Look we'll leave, just don't shoot man, ok, don't-"

"ANSWER ME!" Daniel barked.

"I'm sorry," Santos repeated. "Look, we weren't gonna hurt nobody, we just needed some cash."

"And you figured you'd help yourself to my stuff to get it?" Daniel sneered and pushed the gun against his temple harder.

"No!" Santos yelped, "I mean, technically yes but-"

"We didn't mean for this to happen!" Hilda spoke up suddenly, and it was clear that she was crying now. "Please mister," She pleaded through her tears. "We're not bad people. We needed the money to pay off some hustlers. We were desperate! They'll kill him if he doesn't come up with the cash. I know this don't excuse what we did, breaking in here. But if you would just find it in your heart, if you would show some compassion..." She trailed off.

"Perhaps she's right," Christina spoke up suddenly. "After all, no-one's been hurt. Not really. Maybe we should just let them go."

"Let them go?" Daniel spat incredulously. "They broke into my home; terrorized you and Vincent, and then would have robbed me blind! Why should I do anything for them? They're criminals! Pawn scum! They should crawl back into the gutter from where they came. In fact," Daniel paused; his voice laced with a sort of grim satisfaction. "Forget the cops," He continued. "I think I'll just let these so-called hustlers deal with them, have a little natural justice."

"Now hold on man," Santos started nervously. "We can work something out..."

Daniel knocked the gun against his head purposefully.

"I don't think you are in any position to be negotiating," He said.

"Please!" Hilda cried again. "We'll do anything!"

Daniel laughed bitterly.

"What could you possibly have to offer me? You're..." He trailed off.

Daniel froze as a thought began to take shape in his head. A possible answer to all his problems. It was a mad idea and he questioned his own sanity for even thinking of it. But it had been three hard years hidden away in this beautiful prison, so maybe a little madness was warranted.

"Alright," He said quietly. "I'll let you go, let you walk away as though none of this ever happened. I'll even give you the money to pay off your debt..."

"In exchange for what?" Hilda asked warily, a sense of foreboding creeping up her spine. She didn't like the suddenly calm, measured way he was speaking.

Daniel smiled in the dark.

"You," He said smugly. "You have to stay here, with me, for as long as I say."

Hilda gasped in shock.

"What?!" Santos burst out. "What kind of sick, twisted psycho are you! You can't keep my girlfriend here like some sex slave! That's not gonna happen!" He choked slightly as Daniel's hold around his neck tightened. "But...but..." Santos sputtered. "We can still make a deal...if it's a girl you want, we can do that..."

"Santos!" Hilda cried, outraged.

"I can find you someone else," Santos continued. "I can find you a girl."

"I'm not interested in the services of some cheap escort," Daniel said harshly.

"No," Santos nodded slightly. "But Hilda has a sister."

* * *

"Bloody numpty!" Christina harrumphed as she set about making up the bed.

"He's gone, his mind's gone," She continued grumbling.

"He's desperate," Vincent countered, watching her from the doorway. "He's been stuck in hell for three years. Can't say I wouldn't be tempted to do the same if it was me."

"Vincent Bianchi! People are not playthings! And how exactly does Daniel expect to get this poor girl to fall in love with 'im when she's been dragged here against her will, hmm?" Christina retorted smartly.

"Well a small chance is better than none at all. At least he's on the board," Vincent shrugged.

"I just can't believe he traded that girl like some chattel!" Christina tugged the sheets with a little more force than was necessary.

"Let's not forget our guest downstairs," Vincent interjected. "Santos was just as happy to hand over his girl's sister if it meant Daniel would get him in the clear."

"Men are shameless," Christina shook her head.

"Cheer up, doll. It might not be as bad as all that," Vincent tried but the Scotswoman was not impressed.

"Anyway, I'd better go check on that jackass; make sure he doesn't get himself into anymore trouble. Why my brother is friends with the idiot, I'll never understand," Vincent shook his head as he turned to leave.

"Well it was your brother that told him about Daniel in the first place," Christina shouted after him. "If you'd kept your bloody mouth shut, this would never have happened. It could all be construed as your fault!"

* * *

Daniel retreated to the attic, shutting the door behind him.

The sounds of his driver and his housekeeper arguing grew fainter and further away. There was a strong scent of alcohol in the room. He glanced at the floor where the Scotch bottle was still lying in broken shards.

It was funny to think how much had changed since that moment.

Half an hour ago he'd been in despair but now he had hope. He knew his method was unusual and a little crazy. But he was out of options. Besides, it wasn't as though he was going to treat the girl like a prisoner. He just needed to keep her close by since it was impossible for him to leave the mansion.

That wasn't so bad was it?

And there was every chance that she might actually enjoy living here with him. Daniel sighed as he tried to convince himself that the deal he'd just made wasn't totally improper and morally questionable.

He knew Christina was furious with him. He'd better double check all his laundry and keep an eye on what she put in his food for the next week then, he thought wryly - the wrath of the Scotswoman was something fierce. Hopefully she'd be too pre-occupied taking care of their soon-to-arrive guest to have time to exact any sort of crafty vengeance on him.

And what about the girl?

What was she like Daniel wondered? Was she pretty or plain? Smart or dull?

Wondering further into the room, Daniel found the chest he kept on the writing desk there.

It was carved out of the most beautiful maple wood, with delicate curlicues etched into the wood to look like a vine of roses. Inside the chest he kept a few items, all that was left of his former life: two tickets for _La Traviata_ at the Met – he'd been planning to take Sofia out after his birthday; a bottle of his favourite cologne, the new Rolex watch that had come out a week before that fateful night, a packet of condoms and finally, an antique mirror made of jade and engraved in gold.

It was the mirror Daniel reached for now.

Reluctantly he peered into the old-fashioned looking glass; the engraving on the handle still just as bright as when the Chin had first given it to him three years ago:

_Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind._

With a sigh Daniel ran his index finger over the gold lettering.

"Show me the girl," He murmured.

And the mirror began to glow.

TBC

* * *

**AN:** "Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind"are WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE'S words, not mine. They can be found in Act 1 of _A Midsummer Night's Dream. _ No copyright infringement is intended.

Not sure I did very well with this chapter. Action scenes are not my forte, the flow of the narrative seemed a little patchy, and the POV is a little all over the place. But I hope to do better with the next chapter! Thanks for reading.


	5. The Girl in the Glass

**Author's Note: **Alright, I know my name is mud around here for failing to update more regularly. But hopefully you are still willing to read this new chapter.

Thank you so much for taking the time to leave such thoughtful and encouraging comments. I greatly value and enjoy getting feedback from readers. Thank you for your continued support!

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

It was the next morning when Vincent drove Hilda Suarez home to Jackson Heights with a heavy heart.

The storm had finally cleared and Christina deemed it safe to drive. Despite the attempts of the good natured housekeeper to cheer her, the other woman had remained uncharacteristically quiet and withdrawn. Hilda had not slept a wink the night before, her mind too busy ticking over how she was to explain this to her family.

All too soon the old '65 Camero pulled up to the curb outside the Suarez house. Vincent had driven her there in Santos' car knowing that the black Land Rover would look far too conspicuous in a neighbourhood like Jackson Heights with its quaint row houses.

He went round to open the door for Hilda, who gingerly climbed out.

"Good luck," He offered as a parting remark, "I'll be seeing you in two days then."

Then with one last nod, he was gone; the Camero's engine backfiring noisily as it took off down the street.

Hilda pulled her jacket tighter around her, warding off the autumn chill, and hurried to the large tree that grew beneath her sister's window. If her father was up and about today, she didn't want to alarm him. She needed time to get herself together before she dropped the bomb, not another fight about her sneaking around with Santos.

With some effort, Hilda managed to clamber up the tree and in through the window of her sister's bedroom. The window was open which meant Betty was probably up already. Hilda let out a relieved breath when she found the room empty. With any luck, she could sneak across the hallway and hide out in her own room for a bit, she thought, as she peered gingerly into the corridor, before turning to close the door gently behind her.

"I didn't hear you get up."

Hilda shrieked in fright and spun round on her heel to face the owner of the voice.

"Betty! Don't sneak up on me like that!" She chided her sister, bringing a hand dramatically to her chest as her heart pounded.

The younger girl cocked her head, a thoughtful expression on her face as she looked at her sister.

"Why were you coming out of my room?" She asked. Her tone suggested she already had a pretty good idea.

Ever since they were teenagers, Betty had covered for Hilda when she would sneak out. Both girls knew that the tree outside her window was a convenient point of entry when you wanted your return to go unnoticed.

Caught off guard, Hilda didn't answer and instead responded with a question of her own.

"What the hell are you wearing?" She said, eyeing the girl's _unusual _ensemble with distaste – and that was putting it mildly.

The younger Suarez sister's wardrobe had always been questionable but even by her standards, this was too much. Betty shrugged as much as her comically oversized _costume_ would allow.

"I'm working a promotion for Gio's Deli this weekend," She said.

Hilda wrinkled her nose.

"The sandwich guy? I thought you hated him."

"Well its 12 dollars an hour and beggars can't exactly be choosers," Betty said impatiently.

"Touchy," Hilda mumbled under her breath.

The younger girl eyed her sister suspiciously.

"You didn't answer my question," She said, and the corners of her mouth began to twitch.

"What?" Hilda said nervously. "What are you looking at me like that for?"

"You have a leaf in your hair," Betty said gleefully.

Flustered, Hilda's hands flew to her usually well groomed locks reaching blindly to pluck out the errant bit of foliage. Catching the amused expression on her little sister's face, she glared.

"This coming from the girl who's dressed as a _hotdog_," She retorted.

"Hey! It's for a good cause. Not because I was out joyriding with my juvenile delinquent of a boyfriend," Betty teased. "Where is Santos anyway? Did he at least walk you to the tree? Maybe give you a boost?"

"Will you back off?!" Hilda huffed. "Why is it always like the friggin' Spanish Inquisition in this house?"

"Hilda, I was only-"

But now that the stream of words had started, there was no stemming the tide. All the way back from the mansion, Hilda had been tense and anxious, fighting to keep her emotions in check when really, she felt like going to pieces. But she was determined to deliver the news of what had happened in a composed, calm manner.

However, Betty's last comment had blown that plan to smithereens. Her jibe had hit a little too close to home and Hilda's careful composure was rapidly unravelling.

"I'm 28 years old for god's sake; I shouldn't have to explain myself to you. I mean, I know he doesn't measure up to _your _God damn standards," She continued ranting, "but just once, can I not get the third friggin' degree?! JUST STOP GRILLING ME, OKAY!"

"WOA!" Betty exclaimed, completely taken aback by her sister's tirade. "I like you better when you've got a sense of humour."

Hilda flushed, realizing she'd overreacted to Betty's innocent teasing and possibly given herself away.

"I'm sorry, Betty," She swallowed nervously. "I'm just, I'm a little tired and you know how that makes me cranky," She made a poor attempt to excuse herself.

Her sister didn't look convinced but before she could protest, Hilda was saved by a sound from their father's room.

"I'll go check on him," Betty said, heading back down the corridor.

Hilda nodded faintly before returning to her thoughts. She wasn't even able to enjoy the sight of Betty struggling to squeeze through the narrow doorway in her large hotdog costume.

While Betty took care of their father, Hilda headed downstairs to the kitchen. Shakily, she set about making herself a cup of coffee. The familiar routine of such a mundane task was oddly soothing and helped calm her nerves.

"Keep it together, Hilda," She muttered to herself.

"I gave Papi his pills and he's gone back to sleep," a voice announced and Hilda jumped, yelping in surprise.

"How do you keep doing that?!" Hilda exclaimed. "You're always just...there!"

"You see!" Betty pointed an accusatory finger. "That's what I'm talking about! You're acting weird."

"I'm not acting-"

"Yes, you are! You're jumpy, and erratic. And you go off at me for no reason."

"I wouldn't call mocking my boyfriend, no reason!" Hilda retorted hotly.

Betty took in a deep, calming breath and the entire hotdog seemed to rise and fall with the movement.

"I don't want to fight with you, Hilda," She said earnestly. "But I know my sister. And I know when something's wrong. So can you please just talk to me?" Betty pleaded.

Just then the kettle whistled. Hilda used the momentary diversion and didn't answer. She took the boiling water off the stove, grateful for the distraction, but aware of Betty's eyes following her every movement.

"Coffee?" She offered, taking out a second mug.

"Hilda..."

"I'm not stalling," at Betty's sceptical look she conceded, "alright, maybe a little. But you're right; there is something I need to tell you. I just figured we could talk over coffee," Hilda finished sheepishly.

At this, the younger Suarez sister softened.

"Sure," she said with a small smile. "But let me make the coffee. You burn cornflakes."

"Hey!"

* * *

As the mirror continued to glow, Daniel watched with interest as the conversation between the two sisters unfolded.

The younger sister, Betty, couldn't be more than twenty two years old. She had the same raven hair as her sister and dark, doe eyes that were framed by a pair of bright red spectacles. She wasn't a knock-out beauty, certainly nothing like the women he usually dated. But since he wasn't the man he once was, maybe that was for the best. And she did have a beautiful smile and a kind face, even if its features were not especially impressive.

She seemed to take charge of the household, seeing to the day-to-day concerns of the little family. They clearly didn't have a lot of money, with Betty being willing to suffer a humiliating costume and take work from a man she didn't even like to earn a little extra income. Daniel couldn't imagine himself ever doing the same, no matter the situation. His pride would never allow it.

He watched her in the looking-glass as she moved, a little clumsily because of the awkward costume, and set about preparing two cups of coffee. Despite the seriousness of the conversation she and Hilda were about to have, Betty performed the task with a small smile on her face.

"_There," She said, sliding one cup to her sister across the kitchen table, "just the way Mum used to make it."_

Her sister smiled gratefully and Betty, despite the cumbersome hotdog ensemble, managed to sit down. They sat in a comfortable silence and Betty didn't push her sister to talk again. She seemed to know that Hilda would speak in her own time, when she was ready.

But as the minutes seemed to drag by, Daniel was growing restless. He silently willed Hilda to start talking and finally, she did.

* * *

"Alright," Hilda began, helping herself to some leftover flan that Betty had got out. It wasn't the most traditional accompaniment to coffee, certainly not at nine in the morning. But it was a belief held in the Suarez home that in times of crisis, cooking and eating pleasant dishes was a great way to settle the nerves.

"You remember two months ago, when we needed money for Papi's surgery?" She swallowed a mouthful of the dessert.

"Yes, and we were lucky because your bonus from the salon came in," Betty ventured.

Hilda sighed, suddenly fascinated by the flowers on the tablecloth.

"Betty, that's just it. There was no bonus," Hilda confessed. "I mean, I tried. But that Gina Gambaro witch wouldn't give me an advance," an expression of annoyance passed over her features, "so I got the money someplace else; from _someone_ else."

"What did you do, Hilda?"

"I went to Santos. And he gave me the money."

"Oh Hilda! Is this why you suddenly started seeing him again? Because you owe him?"

"No!" The older Suarez sister immediately protested against this. "No, it wasn't like that. Santos didn't give me the money with any conditions attached. I know you don't like him, Betty, but he's not all bad. He does care about me. And when he asked if we could try starting things up again, I figured, he'd helped us and maybe he really was trying to change. So I could at least give him the benefit of the doubt, you know?"

Betty shook her head.

"He always does this to you, Hilda. He's sweet and attentive for a bit, so you give him another chance. He manipulates you. You were vulnerable and he took advantage!" She said fiercely.

"Well we were out of options!" Hilda yelled back. "Papi needed surgery. My job at the salon doesn't pay enough and yours sure as hell doesn't. Where was the money going to come from to cover his medical bills, huh?"

Betty remained silent and Hilda pressed on.

"Anyway; it turns out that the money Santos gave me, he borrowed from a couple of loan sharks, Gaston and Le Fou. At least, that's what they go by on the street."

At this revelation, Betty could no longer hold her tongue.

"So you're telling me that not only did you go to Santos, but you got us in debt with a bunch of New York City gangsters?! Hilda! What were you thinking?!" She exclaimed.

"I was thinking that I was helping my family!" Hilda snapped. "And I didn't know that the money wasn't Santos'. I only found out when he showed up one night, beat up to within an inch of his life," Hilda said shakily, her fingers clenching around the cup in her hands.

"But you should have known better! You know what he's like. How often has he disappointed you?" Betty continued.

"Well if I should have known better, then so should you," Hilda retorted, wiping her eyes in attempt to hold back the tears that were beginning to well up.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Betty said defensively.

"Come on, Betty. You knew the chance of me getting an advance was slim, and that amount? If you're being honest with yourself, you knew that money wasn't from any bonus just as I knew Santos probably wasn't being completely straight with me. But we ignored our instincts, because we needed the help and it was just easier to not ask questions."

Betty sighed and reached for her sister's hand.

"So what do we do now?" She said quietly, their hands clasped. "I'm guessing we need to help Santos pay off his debt."

Hilda squeezed her sister's hand. Her eyes were burning with unshed tears now.

"I'm afraid it's a little more complicated than that," She barely managed to get out over the lump in her throat.

Betty didn't utter a word throughout her sister's tale of what had happened at the mansion. Hilda was crying by the time she got to the part about the deal that had been made. She kept saying how sorry she was but Betty still didn't say anything and her continued silence was starting to unnerve Hilda.

"I'm so sorry Betty. This is my fault," Hilda cried.

Still, the younger Suarez sister remained silent. You could almost hear the hum, the whir, the ding, the ringing, of Betty's mind at work as she stared. She wasn't quite looking at Hilda either, instead staring past her at things no-one else could see.

"Please say something," Her sister pleaded.

"What do you want me to say?" She said finally. "If I don't go and live with this man, he's going to turn you and Santos into the police or worse, Gaston. He's keeping Santos at the mansion until I come to him. If I stay with him, he lets the two of you go and pays off the debt to those hustlers."

"No..." Hilda said horrified.

"Hilda..."

"Betty, you can't be thinking of actually going through with it. The man's a maniac! He has to be to suggest such a thing! It's practically kidnapping."

"Maybe. But what choice do we have?" Betty sighed. "You acted against him first. You broke into this man's house and tried to rob him. Even if we went to the police now, he could say he was acting in self-defence and he'd be justified. Not to mention he could actually press charges against you. So what then? You wind up in a cell and we still owe money to the kind of men you don't ever want to owe even the smallest amount," the younger girl shook her head.

"You were right, Hilda. When you came with that money, I did know better. But I was worried about Papi, and so scared. He was so sick and you were offering an easy solution. So I took it without question."

"Betty..."

"I'm as much to blame for what's happened. So it's also up to me to fix it."

The younger girl drew in a shaky breath and gave her sister a sad, resigned smile.

"If we honour the agreement you've made with this man, we get the best outcome for everyone."

"Except you," Hilda got up and moved to kneel beside her sister. "You're my little sister. I'm supposed to protect you. I won't ask you to do this, Betty."

"You don't have to. I'm choosing to go."

"If anyone's going, it's going to be me! I don't care what Santos says!" Hilda protested.

Betty pulled her sister into a fierce hug. They stayed in that embrace before Betty gently eased back.

"I love you Hilda," She said and now her own tears were falling. "And you've always looked out for me. But now you've got someone else to look out for, who needs you more than I do."

"This is horrible," Hilda said tearfully, leaning against her sister's shoulder.

"It will be okay," Betty said, bravely trying to remain optimistic.

"But what if it's not? Betty, we have no idea who this guy is. What if he hurts you or what if he tries to make you...to force you to..." Hilda shuddered, unable to complete the awful thought.

"I don't think he'll do that, Hilda," Betty swallowed hard. "You said Mr. Bianchi's eldest son works for this man? Well I can't see any son of Benedict Bianchi working for someone like that. I don't understand this or know what he wants, but I can handle myself. I'm a Queens girl right?"

Hilda gave a weak smile.

"You're a far better person than I am, Betty," She said. "Do you think anything will ever be okay again?"

Betty paused thoughtfully before answering.

"I think so," She said finally.

"It's like Papi always says: Everything will be alright in the end. And if it's not alright, then trust me, it's not the end."

TBC

* * *

**AN 2:** Phew! This was a tough one because it's a lot of exposition. I'm hoping I got the characterization and reactions right. But I'm relatively pleased with how it turned out, more or less.

Also the last line, "**Everything will be alright in the end. And if it's not alright, then trust me, it's not the end**" is not mine. It's from the film _The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel _adapted for the screen by screenwriter Ol Parker. When I heard it, it just seemed like such a Betty way of thinking I couldn't resist putting it in. But no plagiarism or copyright infringement is intended.

Thank you for reading!


	6. The Arrival

**Author's note:** Here's the next chapter! Thank you so much for your enthusiastic comments!

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

Christina stood outside the attic, a breakfast tray precariously balanced on one arm while she reached with the other to open the door.

"Bloody hell," The Scotswoman murmured taking in the state of the room.

Shards of glass from a broken bottle lay scattered across a hard-wood floor that was in dire need of a good sweep. And her keen eye didn't miss the sight of a few cobwebs in the corners.

No-one was permitted in the upper-most room of the house – not the cleaning staff who tended to the mansion once a week; not even Christina, arguably his most trusted employee and companion, was allowed to disturb or trespass on Daniel's sanctuary.

Vincent only dared venture to the attic once a year, and only to make sure that their young master didn't pass out in his own vomit after spending his birthday evening brooding and drinking up there.

Daniel was sitting on an old chaise, his back to her, and seemed to be watching the curious shapes reflected on the walls as light streamed in, catching and reflecting off the broken glass at odd angles.

Fighting against instincts that were screaming at her to just get in there and tidy, Christina moved silently to bring the neatly laid tray to Daniel.

"Keep it," A curt voice broke the unnatural silence. Christina froze, about to set the tray down. It was the first time he had shown he was aware of her presence.

"You've not had anything to eat since lunch yesterday," the housekeeper protested.

At Daniel's silence, Christina continued.

"I've made your favourite," She tried to persuade him. "Eggs and soldiers – I used to make it for you when you were a boy, remember? We would sit together and-"

"I haven't been that boy for some time," Daniel interrupted her sharply, turning to face the older woman. "So don't waste my time with sentiment; that's not what I pay you for and it's no use to me."

Thoroughly rebuffed, Christina took the tray back and started to leave when Daniel called out to her again.

"How is our guest?" He spoke as though the words left a bitter taste in his mouth.

"He's behaving himself."

"Well you won't have to deal with him for much longer. The girl is coming," Daniel announced, "she's agreed."

"But that's good news, isn't it?" Christina said smiling slightly.

"Is it?" Daniel rubbed the back of his neck.

He picked up the mirror that he had been watching the girl and her sister in, only moments ago. "What chance do I really have? Her sister has already poisoned her against me. She thinks I'm a mad man," He laughed bitterly.

"And then there's..." Daniel gazed wistfully into the looking-glass at his reflection. His lips tightened; the sight of his distorted features stirring a fire in his belly.

"...well, LOOK AT ME!" He burst out angrily, and Christina couldn't help but flinch at the ire in his tone.

Just as quickly as it had come, his anger abated. When he spoke again, Daniel just sounded tired and sad.

"I'm fooling myself, aren't I," He said, the hand holding the mirror dropping limply to his side, as though he no longer had enough energy to keep it in place. "This is hopeless."

Christina watched her young master sadly.

He claimed to no longer be that little boy she'd once looked after, but in moments like this, there was still so much of that boy in him it was as though she were staring at Daniel's six year old self, asking her to fix his latest "boo-boo"; not the worldly thirty-one year old man he'd grown into.

The kind-hearted Scotswoman wished she could fix this particular "boo-boo". Instead she tried to give him some comfort.

"There's always hope, Daniel," She murmured and then quietly took her leave.

* * *

It had started raining again by the time Vincent arrived at the Suarez house. The young driver loaded Betty's belongings – one large suitcase and a backpack - into the trunk of the Camero.

The sisters stood together on the front porch. Hilda had her arm around Betty in silent support. Neither of them said anything, but they were both keenly aware that this could be the last time they saw each other for quite some time.

Snapping the trunk shut, Vincent turned to face the two women.

"We're ready to go," He announced.

The younger girl nodded in acknowledgement and Vincent got back into the driver's seat, giving the sisters a moment to say their goodbyes.

"So I guess this is it," Betty managed a weak, sad smile and Hilda sniffed tearfully.

"Remember what we said. As far as Papi is concerned, I've taken a job at a paper in the city and they've sent me away on a long-term assignment."

"Right," Hilda nodded.

It wasn't the greatest lie, but it would do. The girls had agreed not to tell their father the truth about what had happened. In his present condition, it was important to keep his stress levels down and they didn't want him getting upset.

"Look after him alright, Hilda," Betty said earnestly.

"I will. I promise," The older girl pulled her sister into a hug. "You just take care of yourself. And if he tries anything on you, you taser his ass!" She whispered fiercely.

Betty laughed weakly and tightened their embrace.

"I'm scared, Hilda," She admitted.

"I know you are."

The sisters didn't say anything else. Hilda didn't try to offer any words of comfort, she just held her little sister, keeping her in the protective circle of her embrace for as long as she could. Eventually, Betty drew back out of the hug.

"Alright. I'll see you soon then," She said; her eyes shining with unshed tears.

Hilda swallowed over the lump in her throat.

"See you soon."

She watched as Betty climbed into the backseat. As the Camero set off down the road, the young girl glanced back at the little house one last time before the car took the corner and disappeared out of sight.

* * *

Betty wasn't sure how long they had been driving.

Hilda had explained to her that this man, whoever he was, lived across the Queensboro Bridge on Hudson Island. He had a large estate at a very isolated address and by all appearances, seemed to be a recluse.

"You alright there, girlie?" Vincent asked from the front. He had attempted to make conversation with her earlier but she'd refused to be drawn out and eventually, he just let her be.

"Yes, fine thanks," Betty nodded vaguely.

"Won't be long now. We're almost home," He offered.

"Home?"

Her thoughts immediately turned to Papi and Hilda; the smell of hairspray and tamales, and melodramatic, over the top Mexican telenovellas.

She wouldn't have that anymore for who knows how long. And suddenly, for the first time it hit Betty that, for the present and near future, this strange house, with this stranger was her home.

It was all horribly wrong.

She turned her head to look out the window, not bothering to stop the single tear that trailed down her cheek. Although she had not said anything, Vincent must have picked up on the change in her mood.

"Don't worry, doll. It's not so bad. It'll all work out, you'll see."

Betty didn't say anything and with a sigh, Vincent focused once more on his driving. The rain was still fairly light, but it was enough that he needed to be on alert.

They had been driving for about ten minutes, in a not altogether uncomfortable silence, when Vincent called out.

"We're here, girlie. Get your first look at the castle," He quipped.

A pair of large iron gates swung open and the Camero made its way up a long gravel drive.

Betty couldn't see much of the surrounding landscape because of the rain, but even in bad weather, there was no mistaking the imposing silhouette of a grey-brick face stately manor resting near the top of a lone hill. Her doe eyes widened in awe at the sight.

With its Gothic turrets the house really did look like a castle, both bleak and romantic. But, standing all on its own in the fog and the rain, for all its grandeur the house looked incredibly lonely.

"So whaddya think?" The young driver asked his charge curiously.

"The grounds of this place are huge," Betty remarked warily.

"Yeah, you get used to that with the Me-...man..." Vincent clumsily tried to cover his near-slip. Fortunately, Betty didn't notice.

"There's a pretty sorta wilderness on the edge of the estate," He continued, "and there's a stream that runs behind the house that leads to the Hudson River. It's actually kinda pretty. Especially in the spring."

"I guess I'll probably still be here in the spring," the girl murmured sadly.

Vincent drew in a sharp breath. Up until that moment, he thought he'd been doing a fairly good job of distracting her from her grief.

Betty leaned back in the seat with a sigh and returned to gazing out the window. The mansion didn't seem to be getting any closer.

"So; D'you think we'll reach the house before dark?" She quipped wryly.

Vincent chuckled.

"Just about."

A few minutes later, Vincent neatly parked in the driveway in front of the grand house.

Taking a cursory glance out the window, Betty noticed an older woman standing just in front of the doors to the house and Santos was standing beside her.

"Well you certainly took your time!" The woman called in a strong Scottish accent.

"It started raining," Vincent protested, "and I was carrying precious cargo," He winked at Betty, who was still sitting in the car, playfully.

At this the woman's attention was diverted from scolding the lanky young man and she started to approach the car, Santos trailing behind her. Betty rightly took this as her cue to get out.

Leaving the safety of the Camero, the young woman stood somewhat awkwardly on the gravel.

"Hello," She greeted with a weak smile. "I'm Betty Suarez."

"Well bless my blimey! You're a wee young lass, aren't ya?" The woman spoke kindly.

"This is Christina McKinney, housekeeper," Vincent made the introductions.

"It's so nice to meet you dearie," Christina said warmly.

She was a middle-aged woman with glittering blue eyes that Betty imagined held that same sparkle since her youth. Her blonde hair was streaked with silver - that and the laugh lines in the corners of her eyes when she smiled were the only things that betrayed her years. But she had a kind face, and an open and friendly demeanour that immediately put Betty at ease.

"Vincent, take Betty's things inside," the Scotswoman immediately took charge, "and you," She turned to Santos who had been standing silently so far. "Your business is concluded here and you can be on your way sir!" she said sharply.

Vincent tossed Santos the keys to the Camero. Hilda's boyfriend didn't even look at Betty, grumbling something about, "gettin' the hell outta dodge" as he climbed into the driver's seat and then took off without a second glance.

"Bloody numpty," Christina grumbled. "But on to pleasanter things," She smiled at Betty. "You, my dear, are most welcome here. We're so glad you've come."

Betty struggled for a moment, unsure how to respond. But the good natured housekeeper easily laughed it off.

"Good heavens dearie! I'm not expecting you to feel the same. We know this little _vacation _with us was not exactly by choice. But, however you've come to us, know that you are in the company of friends," Christina finished, placing a reassuring arm around the young girl's shoulders as she guided her into the house.

"Now I suppose we'd better get you settled into your room."

"Actually, Christina," Vincent interrupted. "_He'd_ like to see her now. In the downstairs sitting room."

Betty immediately tensed under the other woman's arm, but the housekeeper gave a quick nod.

"Alright then. Follow me dear."

Despite the other woman's kind reassurance, Betty's stomach was tying itself in knots. She had absolutely no idea what lay waiting for her as she followed the cheery housekeeper into the mansion.

* * *

The first thing Betty noticed was how dark the house was.

Thick curtains were drawn over every window. It was the middle of the day, yet it seemed to be perpetually night in this fine house.

And it was a fine house.

Deep-coloured rich woods, stained glass, and intricate stonework - evocative of the Victorian Gothic time period - defined the mansion's interior style. It was very impressive.

But it was also incredibly cold.

Betty wondered how she could possibly find anything good in a place that seemed so desolate, so devoid of any light or warmth, or life.

Christina led her to a very large sitting room. Like the rest of the house, this room was handsomely furnished.

Rich Persian rugs were spread across the floor; bookcases lined the walls, their leather bindings and gold-embossed titles presenting a sweet temptation to Betty. A chaise, two oversized couches and an easy chair around a low coffee table made up the actual sitting area of the room. There was an old-fashioned writing desk in one corner above which hung an oil painting. Thick drapes were drawn closed over the windows and the only light in the room came from a few soft lamps.

Against the north-facing wall of the room was a large fireplace and, sitting in front of it, was a high-backed armchair that was not unoccupied.

"Wait here," Christina told her, stopping by the old writing desk.

Betty did as she was told, watching nervously as the housekeeper approached the person seated in the chair. They exchanged a few words, though she could not tell what. A moment later, Christina was making her way towards the door.

"You're not staying?" Betty said in alarm as the other woman passed her.

"Oh you'll be fine dearie," She gave the girl's hand a sympathetic pat, "His bark's much worse than his bite."

Then she was gone.

Left alone with those less than encouraging words, Betty stood awkwardly; uncertain of what to do. She was very much aware of the presence sitting in the chair by the fireplace. He had not made any attempt to address her, or given any indication that he was even aware of her being in the room. But she knew that he was.

The tense silence was becoming unbearable.

With nothing else to do, Betty turned her attention to the artwork. She recognised it as a very good copy of the Luncheon of the Boating Party by Renoir.

At least, she assumed it was a copy. But considering the apparent wealth of this man, it wouldn't surprise her if he owned some original works.

"Do you like that painting?"

Betty spun round in fright, startled by the voice that was unusually loud in the stillness of the room.

"Uh...yes..." She tried to recover. "I mean, I'm no expert or anything. But yes, I find it interesting, very much," She babbled.

"What do you see?" Daniel continued evenly.

Betty frowned in confusion.

"Excuse me?"

"The painting. You've been staring at it for a while. What do you see?"

Her eyes widened in surprised. She had not been aware that he was watching her. He had not shifted from his position at all.

"Well, they all look happy," Betty ventured hesitantly. She considered the painting once more. "I like the girl with the glass of water. She's at the centre of everything, but somehow outside of it. I wonder what she's thinking. Is she bored or sad...pensive...or maybe she's lonely," She gave a small wry laugh, "or maybe she's just thirsty after all and wants to drink a glass of water..."

"There's a gallery on the second floor, in the west wing of the house. If art is something that interests you, maybe you'll find something you like there; something pretty to look at," Daniel offered.

Betty gaped. She did not know what to make of that offer.

"Something doesn't have to be pretty to be worth looking at," She murmured, eventually responding to his last remark.

After that there was an odd pause from the other side of the room. Betty shifted uncomfortably.

"Come closer," Daniel spoke again.

At his quiet command, she took a few hesitant steps towards the man in the chair. By this point, her curiosity was starting to outweigh her fear. She was about two feet away from him when he stopped her.

"That's close enough," Daniel cleared his throat nervously. He was still resolutely facing away from her and the high back of the chair prevented her from getting even the smallest glimpse of his appearance.

"Do you know why you're here?" He asked her.

"Not really."

"You are my guest," Daniel said simply. "I want you to like it here."

Betty stiffened, feeling a little resentment at the command and presumption in his tone.

"The mansion is your home now. You can go anywhere you like – except for the attic."

"Why? What's in the attic-"

"That's none of your concern!" Daniel snapped and the girl visibly shrank at his harsh tone.

"Just stay out of there," He released a breath and tried to recover his composure. "If you need anything, my housekeeper will help you. And there's one more thing, this is very important: you cannot ever leave the grounds of the mansion, for any reason. I hope I've made myself clear."

"How long am I expected to stay here?" Betty asked tentatively.

Daniel's jaw tightened.

"Until _I _decide you can leave," He bit out irritably. The girl had only just arrived and already she was talking about leaving?!

Betty sucked in a harsh breath at his response. Squaring her shoulders she drew herself up to her full height. The expression on her face was exactly the same as when she'd been nine years old and stubbornly declared that she would not take her disgusting cold medicine, no matter how good it was supposed to be for her.

"Guests can leave whenever they want," She said. "By that definition then, I am not a guest; I am your prisoner."

"I don't think many _prisons_ keep their inmates in such great comfort," Daniel retorted dryly.

"So it's a beautiful cage. But I'm in prison all the same."

"A cage?" Daniel cried incredulously. "No, you will be happy here. The life you've had has not been easy. But here, you will have whatever you want. I can give it to you. You won't ever have to worry or struggle for anything again. All I'm asking, is that you stay here."

"I don't think you're _asking_ me to do anything," Betty retorted.

Daniel felt his temper flare. He was losing patience with this whole line of conversation and needed to end it quickly.

"You've had a busy day," He said.

"What?" Betty was thrown by the abrupt change in topic.

"I think you'll want to get settled in your room now. Christina will help you."

Betty sighed.

It was clear that he had no intention of conversing any further with her, and she had no choice but to do as he said.

She left him sitting in that chair - not once had he shifted his position since she'd entered the room.

And so, as she lay awake later that night, Betty would have much to think on; contemplating her strange fate with this mysterious stranger.

TBC

* * *

**AN 2: **So they've finally met!...sort of. This chapter was a little bit hit and miss. I'm not sure I was totally successful with it and hope I haven't disappointed anyone. Also, I should apologise for my point of view which seems to be wobbling all over the place. I intended to write this in the third person voice. But I've noticed that a little first person seems to creep in there. I will try to be more disciplined about this in future chapters.

Thanks for reading!


	7. The Room in the Roof

**Author's note:** Forgive me; I've kept you all waiting far too long. Hopefully this chapter goes some way towards making up for it. As always, your kind comments and continued support is much appreciated!

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

This was a bad idea.

A very stupid, bad idea.

Betty crept along the dark corridor, keeping an eye out for any movement on the floors below her. She was not quite sure what possessed her to embark on this little covert mission. A combination of boredom and some kind of morbid curiosity, she guessed.

He had told her, in no uncertain terms, that she was _never_ to go there. It was off limits – _forbidden_.

Naturally, that made Betty all the more curious. She wondered what it was he could possibly be hiding up there. From what she could tell, her captor seemed to be guarding a lot of secrets.

She had been at the manor a week now and had not seen the smallest glimpse of the house's mysterious owner since his awkward reception of her. If she didn't know any better, she would think that he was avoiding her.

There had been a few suspicious incidents in the last few days – a door slammed shut at one end of a room, as she entered at the other end; an abandoned cup of coffee that was still warm. There were also strange instances when Betty felt as though she was being watched.

Just yesterday, she had spent the afternoon hiding out in the library. Christina had been downstairs scolding Vincent for some reason or other, so Betty had been certain that she was quite alone.

But as she sat happily immersing herself in the words of Oscar Wilde, she got the distinct feeling that someone was reading with her, peering over her shoulder. She had turned around and immediately felt foolish when there was quite obviously no-one there. But Betty felt quite certain that it had something to do with her secretive captor.

And the answer to this riddle was very likely in the attic he was so desperate to keep her out of.

The wood beneath her creaked and Betty nearly jumped out of her skin. She wasn't used to all the squeaks and creaks that were typical of these old houses, and the sound was eerily loud in the quiet stillness of the mansion.

Christina had gone to bed early after drinking a little too much at dinner, and Vincent hadn't been to the manor today. The master of the house was, as usual, making himself scarce.

Shaking her head at her silliness, Betty spared another quick glance behind her and then pressed on. She was almost at the top of the stairs now and began to feel that familiar thrill of being on the verge of a great discovery.

Betty would admit that she was intrigued by this man, whoever he was. Her curiosity – Hilda would say nosiness – had already started to overpower her fear. Besides, if his continued avoidance of her was anything to go by, he seemed to be more afraid of _her_.

This entire situation was incredibly strange and thoroughly confusing.

For seven days she'd wondered through the handsomely furnished rooms, eaten meals on her own, – Christina joined her occasionally when she didn't have some detail of the household to be busy with – and usually wound up crying herself to sleep when the ache she felt for her family became too great.

But there were only so many Chagall and Jackson Pollack paintings a girl could look at, and even the best home-cooked meal couldn't make up for a significant lack of company.

Betty was lonely and bored, and therefore more likely to go wandering off into some sort of trouble.

She reached the top step and then boldly headed into the dragon's lair. The attic was a lot bigger than Betty had first expected, spanning the entire length of the mansion's roof. There was a lot of old broken furniture and she guessed it might have been used as a kind of storage room at some point.

The first thing that struck her was the smell – a combination of mildew and liquor. Betty doubted this room was ever aired. Unlike every other room in the house, the windows were not blocked out with thick drapes. She could see the night sky, its stars shining like delicate jewels sewn against midnight blue silk.

In front of the windows was an old chaise and resting on it, a beautiful wooden chest. The lid was open and there was a soft emerald glow coming from inside the box. Betty was immediately drawn to it. She ran her fingers over the delicate etchings carved into the wood and reached into the chest to discover the source of the glow.

Betty gasped in awe.

It was an antique looking-glass, the likes of which Betty had never seen. The handle and frame were made of jade, and there was an inscription etched in what looked like real gold. She angled the looking glass, holding it almost reverently, and raised it to her face.

She screamed in fright!

Reflected in the looking glass she could clearly see that someone was standing behind her.

Daniel stormed towards her and before she had a chance to respond, angrily snatched the mirror away from her, shoving her out of the way as he hastily replaced it in the chest and then snapped the lid shut.

That was when he rounded on her.

"What the hell did you think you were doing?" He glowered at her dangerously.

"I...I..." Betty stammered but this only seemed to enrage him further.

"Why did you come here?!"

"I'm sorry...I didn't...I just-"

"I told you _never_ to come here!" His voice grew darker and went up several decibels as he advanced on her threateningly.

Betty continued to stumble over her words, backing up nervously, her eyes fixed on his distorted features.

She had never seen a face like his before.

The flesh was scarred, as though he had been caught in a fire. He had no hair to speak of and all over his skin had an unhealthy-looking pink tinge like a wailing newborn or bad sunburn. The left side of his face drooped slightly, as though he'd suffered a stroke or the skin could not hold itself up any longer. But it was his eyes, bright blue and sharp as a pin. Behind the anger in those stormy cerulean orbs Betty sensed an unspeakable sadness, and while she was still terrified of what he may do to her for disobeying him, there was also pity for whatever unfortunate fate had befallen him.

Something of what she was thinking must have registered on her face, and Daniel clearly didn't like it.

"What are you _staring _at?!" Daniel thundered.

"Nothing!" Betty said quickly - too quickly. He glared at her with murderous intent and she actually flinched.

"So, you've come to stare at the _freak_? Is that it?!"

"No! Please, I was only...I didn't mean any harm!"

"LIAR!" His fists clenched and his jaw tightened. He was practically shaking with rage.

"Get Out!" He kept advancing on her, anger burning in his gaze, and Betty felt certain he was going to strike her.

She let out a startled shriek and spun round on her heel, trying to get away from him.

"GET OUT!" He was still yelling and Betty fled, tripping once on her way out the door.

She practically flew down the stairs and didn't stop until she'd reached her room. Betty threw herself inside and managed to steady her trembling hands long enough to lock her door.

Her heart was pounding and she only just realized that her cheeks were wet with hot tears.

_Knock! Knock!_

She jumped at the sound but she was still too shaky to respond.

"_Betty?"_ A voice called gently through the door.

It was Christina.

"_Dearie, are you alright? I thought I heard something. Betty?"_

The Scotswoman's voice was so caring and concerned, and something inside Betty broke.

Her legs gave out beneath her and she collapsed to the floor, unable to keep a hold on her tenuous emotions any longer. She raised her hands to her face and released a few choked sobs. All the while Christina continued calling to her soothingly through the door.

Meanwhile, in the attic, her captor unknowingly mimicked her actions.

Daniel sat on the chaise, his eyes staring blindly, and his head in his hands.

**TBC**

* * *

**AN 2: **So, Betty's finally seen Daniel and so have you! I hope you weren't disappointed and didn't find our hero and heroine's reactions too extreme. Also, sorry for the shortness of the chapter, but this felt like a natural place to stop so I went with it. But the good news is, I know what I want to do with the next chapter so I should update again in two or three days. Till next time, then!

Thanks for reading!


	8. Stalemate

**Dislcaimer: **I own absolutely nothing. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

There was a half-empty lunch tray set outside the door.

Christina picked it up with a sigh and made her way back to the kitchen.

"She won't come out," the Scotswoman announced to Vincent and Daniel; the latter looking moody and contemplative as he stirred his coffee idly.

Betty had refused to leave her room since she'd stubbornly locked herself in the night before. Only Christina was granted entrance, and that was when the kind housekeeper insisted on bringing her something to eat.

"What are you looking at _me_ like that for?" Daniel said, not missing the accusatory glare the Scotswoman was giving him.

"You bloody well know why!" Christina snapped back. She stood with her hands on her hips, staring the younger man down. Behind her, Vincent muttered a quiet, "Oh boy".

"Was it asking too much for you to at least _attempt_ to act like a gentleman; instead of terrorizing the poor child?!"

"I did not _terrorize _her."

"You as good as did," She insisted. "Shameful is what it is, screaming and carrying on at a woman like that."

"Well it was her own fault," Daniel retorted hotly. "She shouldn't have been there in the first place!"

"That's not the point! You scared her half to death because you couldn't control your temper!"

Daniel gaped at her in response before snapping his mouth shut. His shoulders slumped and all the fight seemed to go out of him.

"So what should I have done instead?" He said glumly.

Christina harrumphed expectantly.

"For a start, you could try and be a little more understanding. Betty has lost her freedom and her family. And now she's all alone in this strange house with a man she doesn't know. Surely you, of all people, can relate to how she must be feeling?"

"Maybe," Daniel said begrudgingly, "but she still shouldn't have been in the attic."

"So she made a mistake. Forgive her for it and apologise for what happened," Christina softened a little.

Daniel frowned.

"Wait a minute. You expect _me_ to _apologise_ to _her_? You just said _she_ was the one who made a mistake. Why should I apologise?"

The Scotswoman released a strange noise and, sensing the housekeeper's mounting frustration, Vincent quickly jumped in.

"No-one denies that Betty shoulda stayed outta your space, Master D; but you know that yellin' at her like you did wasn't very cool either; 'sides, I'm sure the girl didn't mean no offense," the driver said in what he hoped was a conciliatory tone.

Daniel seemed to consider his words.

"Alright," He said finally, not missing the hopeful look on both Vincent and Christina's faces. "I'll apologise to the girl...but only _after _she apologises to _me._"

Vincent groaned.

"Daniel Meade, you are the most pig-headed, infuriating _clotpole_, if ever I knew one!" Christina ranted.

Daniel simply shrugged and sauntered away with his coffee. He was already out the door when he popped his head back in the kitchen, narrowing his eyes at Christina dangerously.

"_Clotpole?_"

Vincent had to hide a smile.

* * *

Two days.

And the stalemate between Daniel and Betty continued.

No matter how hard Christina tried, Betty wouldn't even consider being in the same room as Daniel, let alone speak with him.

For his part, Daniel couldn't believe how unbelievably stubborn the girl was. A little voice in his head, that sounded a lot like Christina, whispered something to him about 'pot' and 'kettle' but Daniel studiously ignored it.

This whole situation was becoming ridiculous.

If he was to have even the smallest chance of winning the girl's affections, at the very least, he needed to be in the same room with her. The longer this continued, the less chance there was of that happening.

One of them would have to give in and as much as it pained him to admit it, it would have to be Daniel.

"Vincent," Daniel cleared his throat awkwardly on the morning of the third day. "What do you do to make up when a woman is mad at you?" He asked his driver.

Vincent looked momentarily surprised by the question. His eyes went comically wide before he remembered himself.

"Well there are the usual things: flowers...chocolates..." He listed on his fingers, "...promises you don't intend to keep...OW!"

The young man yelped as Christina elbowed him painfully in the ribs.

"Or, you could always just _tell_ Betty you made a mistake, and you're sorry for what happened," the Scotswoman added.

"I think I like Vincent's plan better," Daniel retorted.

It was humbling enough that he had to make the first gesture of peace. He wasn't about to grovel and beg for _her _forgiveness.

Vincent's suggestion suited him nicely: it would be an apology without actually having to say the words. And if she ended up coming to _him_ afterwards and apologising for her part in the whole mess, even better.

Daniel had Vincent take Christina to purchase a diamond necklace like the ones he used to give to all his women.

But when Christina returned after bringing Betty lunch, the signature _Tiffany's _jewellery box was still on the tray.

Daniel was completely taken aback.

Over the next two days, a parade of expensive jewellery and clothes was sent to the guest room; the likes of which would have had Amanda, and even Sofia, all over him and willing to follow his every whim.

But Betty Suarez was not so easily impressed and the gifts were always returned to him.

By the fifth day, Daniel had fallen into a terrible mood.

He stormed through the mansion with a face like thunder, spitting venom at his two loyal staff members like a two-headed python. Both Christina and Vincent thought it best to leave him be, knowing he wouldn't be reasoned with in his present state of mind.

"Maybe he should do something simpler," Vincent speculated as he watched Christina prepare the evening meal. "What about chocolates?"

"Oh no," Christina pulled a face.

Vincent huffed.

"If you ask me, she's just being stubborn. I mean, he shelled out some serious cash for all that stuff..."

"And that's precisely the problem. Betty thinks Daniel is just trying to buy her."

"Do _you _think that's what he's trying to do?"

Christina paused thoughtfully.

"I think Daniel is trying to fix things the only way he knows how. But he doesn't realize that a girl like Betty can't be bought," She said finally. "The more he tries to, the more she resents it."

"Have you tried telling Daniel that?"

"For all the good it's done," Christina nodded sadly. "He can't see that what she really needs is for him to show that he's sincere. There was a time when he understood that."

"Yeah, before he had access to Daddy's cheque book,"Vincent snorted. "Does the guy even know how to make an effort anymore? He's gotten so used to buying his friends, if you can even call them that," He sneered.

Christina frowned.

"Vincent, don't be unkind."

The young driver rolled his eyes.

"You've always had a soft spot for him. I've never understood why."

"That's because you didn't know him as a boy," Christina smiled wistfully, remembering days past. But then her expression clouded.

"I'm worried, Vincent; for _both_ of them. They can't keep this up forever."

"Well," Vincent drew out the single syllable, "if the worst happens, we can always lock them in a room together naked and see if nature take its course," He looked like he was seriously considering the idea.

"Vincent Bianchi! Do not talk nonsense!" Christina chided him, hitting his arm and the younger man smirked.

"Anyway, I've got a supper to be putting on, and Pride & Prejudice up there," Christina rolled her eyes in the direction of the stairs, "will keep for now. You can make yourself useful and keep stirring that pot," the Scotswoman directed. "And don't you dare burn my sauce! Or I'll box your ears."

"Yes Mam," Vincent mock saluted. "You know, there's somethin' very attractive about an older, authoritative woman..." He teased her.

"Don't get cute with me, Bianchi," Christina retorted. "Besides, I'd eat you alive," She winked at him playfully. "Now mind that sauce."

Christina and Vincent had turned their attention back to the dinner.

They didn't notice that the kitchen door was ajar or the flicker of movement beyond it...

**TBC**

* * *

**AN 2: **So who was listening at the door? Betty or Daniel? Dun dun dun! I'm awful, I know, to leave you on a cliff-hanger, but I couldn't resist. If it's any consolation, you won't have to wait too long. I'm not entirely satisfied with this chapter. But I think I've hummed and hawed over it long enough.

"Clotpole" is not my word. It belongs to the character Merlin from the BBC series of the same name. And Vincent's line about "flowers...chocolates...promises you don't intend to keep" belongs to Cogsworth from the Disney film version of _Beauty & the Beast_. No copyright infringement intended.

On to more important things, the Thank Yous!

**Mrs-N-Uzumaki: **Sorry to have put you through such angst last chapter – though I am pleased that the chapter struck a chord! Hopefully this chapter will lighten things up a little. As always, thanks for taking the time to review!

**DettyisLove: **Thanks so much! I'm glad you're still enjoying the story. Always a pleasure to receive your comments.

**optimistic girl94: **I really appreciate you making the effort to leave such a thoughtful review. Your feedback always gives me some great perspective. I'm glad to have played a small part in your rediscovering your love of the Beauty & the Beast story. As for Gaston, if you go back to chapter 4, you'll see that I do mention a "Gaston". But his part in this story is yet to be determined...you'll have to keep reading! ;) Thanks again.

**TMadison: **Thanks for your comments! I always enjoy reading your insights and observations about the story. You hit the nail on the head – they do need each other, though neither of them have recognised that fact yet. Regarding "Ishq", I definitely have not abandoned that story. However my muse is spread a little thin at present, with this fic and two others I'm working on. At the latest, I'll get back to "Ishq" after I wrap on this story. But hopefully sooner so keep an eye out. Thanks so much for your support!

**Agentcaroline: **I'm glad you think so! Thanks for sharing your thoughts on the matter, I really appreciate it.

Finally, to _everyone_ reading, following, or favouriting this story:

Your continued support means the world to me! Thank you very much and I hope this story continues to entertain you.


	9. Close Encounter

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.

* * *

_Tick. Tock._

_Tick. Tock._

An old grandfather clock guarded the passage outside her room. She could hear it steadily counting down the hour.

_Tick. Tock._

_Tick. Tock._

Betty rolled over and reached blindly for her mobile that was resting on the nightstand. The digits _00:45_ glowed against the phone's face. Her arm flopped to her side and Betty groaned.

It was almost one o'clock in the morning and still sleep would not claim her.

She contemplated calling Hilda with the little airtime she had left. Betty had only spoken with her once and that was shortly after her arrival at the mansion. If she phoned her now, Hilda would know straightaway that something was wrong – the lateness of the call would be a sure giveaway.

Her bossy big sister would demand to know what had happened; there would be lots of cussing and several threats to take a pair of pliers to the _son of a bitch_ and strip him of his _family jewels_. Knowing how worked up Hilda became when she went on a tear, it would take Betty at least half an hour to calm her down and she really didn't have the energy for that.

No, she thought, calling her sister was a no-no. It wouldn't do either of them any favours at this point.

Having abandoned that idea, Betty replaced the phone and then heaved herself out of the large four poster bed. It was far too late for anyone else to be up so she figured she could safely leave her room, without the risk of bumping into _him_, and get some warm milk - that usually helped her get to sleep in the past.

She made her way downstairs, her bare feet moving soundlessly against the polished wooden floors, and entered the large kitchen. Her eyes were already accustomed to the darkness so she didn't bother to switch on the light as she headed to the refrigerator. She also didn't notice that the door to the pantry was open, or the bowl and spoon sitting on the island in the centre of the kitchen. Reaching into the fridge, her fingers successfully closed around the carton of milk stashed at the very back when _that voice _called out to her.

"_I wasn't expecting anyone else to be up this late."_

"Ah!"

Betty let out an embarrassing squeak and spun round in fright. Her eyes widened at the sight of the man standing at the door to the pantry and she dropped the carton in her hands. It hit the floor with a loud _thud!_

"I'm sorry! I didn't know anyone was...uh..." She stammered nervously. "I'll just go."

She started to make her retreat but Daniel was quicker.

"Wait!" He called out. "Please, wait!"

In three long strides he closed the distance between them. Daniel tried not to cringe as Betty visibly shrank away from him the moment he came close to her.

"I'm not going to hurt you," He raised his hands in surrender trying to show her he meant no harm. "Just, don't run away from me."

Betty hesitated at his words. His gaze was very direct and there was something in those cerulean depths that seemed to be pleading with her.

"What do you want?" She asked him warily.

Daniel released a breath he didn't realise he had been holding. The girl had not fled from him as he had thought she would. That was a little progress at least.

"I just came down for some Cocoa Puffs," Daniel said, moving back to the pantry where he'd been rooting around for the chocolate cereal. He reappeared a moment later with the box in hand.

"Would you...uh...like some?" He asked a little awkwardly.

Betty's eyebrows arched so high they practically disappeared into her hairline. She still regarded him with suspicion and when she spoke, her voice was incredulous.

"Are you actually trying to be..._nice_?"

Daniel shrugged.

"Thought I'd try something new," He quipped wryly.

Betty still looked sceptical and Daniel remembered what he overheard Christina say earlier that evening.

"_...Betty thinks Daniel is just trying to buy her...what she really needs is for him to show that he's sincere." _

Looking at the girl now, her shoulders tense, hands balled into fists at her sides, her entire posture was defensive. She was still wary of him, still doubtful. And she would not believe the words he spoke to be true.

Daniel set the box of cereal down and then bent to pick up the milk carton she had dropped. He knew that this was to be the turning point for them and everything depended on what he did next. Taking a deep breath he steadied himself to meet her gaze once more. It helped that the kitchen was still dim, the only light shining from the open pantry – at least it wasn't so easy for her to see his humiliation.

"Are you afraid of me, Miss Suarez?" He spoke quietly.

"Yes," Betty replied with surprising frankness.

Daniel swallowed hard. He had asked the question, but he had not expected her to be so direct with her answer.

"That's not what I want," He continued. "I know I look-"

"Your looks have nothing to do with it," She interrupted sharply. Daniel was taken aback – this was not the same girl he had encountered in the attic a few nights ago.

"It's your actions that frighten me," Betty continued. "I don't know which is worse: that you practically attack me, one minute, or that you're shoving a load of expensive gifts at me the next; as if I was some _kept woman_ that you get to set up in your style! You are rude and abrupt. You get angry at me for invading _your privacy_, but you think nothing of spying on me and _violating mine_! And through all of this, you seem to think I am completely without feelings! I _agreed_ to come here, but that doesn't mean I deserve to be treated like this!"

Betty was breathing hard, trying to take in the air her rant had denied her body, and her eyes reddened with angry, unshed tears. Daniel stared at her in shock and found himself frozen in place. The silence stretched between them and neither of them made another move, as though her speech had cast some sort of spell, suspending them in time.

"_I'm sorry."_

Betty blinked, clearly not expecting that.

"What?" She murmured; all the fire had gone out of her tone.

"I said, I'm sorry," Daniel repeated, unwilling to meet her gaze. "I didn't think that...I just didn't think. I have been selfish all my life. But I don't want to be that way with you. I want to treat you as a friend, not as a captive or a _kept woman_."

"Well you have a funny way of showing that," Betty replied darkly.

Daniel blew out a harsh breath.

"Look, I know you don't trust me," He said finally. "And I haven't exactly given you much reason to have confidence in me. But things _will_ be different, I promise. I'm just asking for one more chance."

"Why?" Betty frowned. "Why did you have me come here in the first place?"

"Because...I'm lonely," Daniel admitted, surprised by how much truth there actually was in that statement. "And the fact is, Miss Suarez, I'd like to draw you out. There are very few people who have ever had the guts to speak to me as you just have."

"Mores the pity; it seems to be good for you."

Daniel smiled slightly at that remark.

"So what do you say? Is there any chance we could try to be friends?" He hated the note of desperation that crept into his voice.

Betty let out a sigh. She was watching him intently, as though he was a question she couldn't quite find the answer to, and even in the dim light, Daniel was starting to feel very self-conscious under her gaze.

"You are a very confusing man," She said finally. "And you're right, I _don't_ trust you. But it's too hard to fight with you all the time, and as long as I'm here, I guess we'd better make the best of things."

Betty hesitated a moment, then, "I suppose I should apologise to you too. I'm sorry I went into the attic. I made a mistake. It was none of my business and I'm sorry for making you so upset."

"Well I overreacted," Daniel shook his head. "But thank you for saying that."

Betty nodded and gave a hesitant smile. "So...starting over then."

She walked towards Daniel and formally stuck out her hand.

"Hi, I'm Betty Suarez, I've just moved into the neighbourhood," She waited for him to shake her hand and Daniel couldn't help but laugh at her antics, taking this whole starting over thing quite literally. She really was an unusual girl.

"It's nice to meet you, Betty Suarez," He shook her small, soft hand in his own; silently marvelling at the pretty contrast between their skin tones. "I'm..." Daniel froze.

He _could not_ give her his real name.

The one comfort he'd had about his situation was that no-one had ever discovered the truth about what happened to Daniel Meade. And he was determined to keep it that way. It would be too mortifying if the truth ever came to light. Betty was looking at him strangely now, and Daniel realised she was waiting on his response.

"Where did you go just then?" She said, studying him curiously.

Daniel gave himself a mental shake and quickly dropped her hand.

"Sorry," He said and hurriedly blurted out the first name that came to him.

"I'm Alex. My name is Alex."

**TBC**

* * *

**Author's Note: **

Thank You for Reviewing:

**Mrs-N-Uzumaki: **Thanks so much for your enthusiastic response! There are so many parallels between the themes in Beauty & the Beast and Ugly Betty which is what first gave me the idea to attempt a contemporary adaptation. So I'm very pleased to hear that it works! Thanks for your encouraging words and continued support!

**DettyisLove: **I actually hadn't yet decided who would be eavesdropping when I posted the previous chapter. But as you rightly guessed, it worked better with Daniel as a way for him to begin to get a clue! You know what he's like. Sometimes you have to hit him over the head with an idea before it takes ;). Thanks for your lovely comments! Hope you keep enjoying this story.

**optimistic girl94: **Wow...I can't thank you enough for being so insanely generous towards me! It's very humbling. I hope this story continues to be worthy of such praise. Thank you very much!

**JudgeTenderlyofMe: **Thank you so much for such kind comments! I hope this story continues to delight and entertain you. I'm very pleased (and relieved) to hear that the story resonates. The worst thing on a character driven piece like this is if the writing ended up being wooden. Your feedback has done much to reassure me, so thanks!

**CrimsonNox83: **Thank you very much! I hope you like the new chapter.

**TMadison: **I've always imagined Vincent to be quite witty and rather bawdy and irreverent. He's lots of fun to write! Thanks so much for taking the time to comment. I always enjoy hearing your take :).

**AgentCaroline: **I know exactly what you mean about Daniel. I always reach a stage where I want to strangle him at least once but he can also be very endearing, even when he's being a prat! Vincent and Christina provide a much needed source of levity in this fic, especially when things get darker and angsty with Daniel. So I'm glad you enjoyed their banter. Thanks for reviewing!

To everyone reading or following this story, thanks for taking the time!


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